Remnant of Cursed Paradise
by Plasmadon
Summary: Shirou was dying. It was a sad truth, but an immutable one. At least it was until Avalon intervened and gave him a chance to continue chasing his fate. Of course, Shirou accepted. Now he's saving people, but not quite in the way that he expected: by exterminating the creatures of Grimm from Remnant. It will take more than a few miracles to change his fate this time around. Semi-AU.
1. Heaven's Feel

**Welcome to the first chapter of Remnant of Cursed Paradise! I don't particularly like long author's notes, so I'll get right to the chase with this one. This Shirou isn't based off of any of the routes in Fate/Stay Night: Rather, he's part of a route that I myself created from mashing together the bits and pieces I remember from the three. There will be discrepancies, and things happened in this route that didn't happen in any of the others, but it shouldn't affect the quality of the story in any way. **

**Well, go on! Your next adventure awaits!**

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** Chapter One: Heaven's Feel**

I twisted to the side of an incoming blow, just as readily unleashing Kanshou at my enemy. Bakuya trembled in my grip, eager to join its spinning twin, but my strength was enough even without Reinforcement to keep the Yin sword from flying away. Swords were littered all around us in an endless wasteland expanse. The burnt-orange sky above us seared with heat, and a bead of sweat trickled down to my nose.

Kanshou curved in midair, almost trying to find the path of least resistance back to its other half. My opponent, a Servant with the speed to dodge my first three attacks, once again whirled away in a flash of gold. I brought up Bakuya just in time to block a ringing strike from the red-eyed Servant.

Gilgamesh was glaring at me, his face only inches from mine, torn between amusement and utter fury. He growled, and through his parted teeth came the smell of fine wine and desert sand. I broke away first, but only because I was unable to cope with his strength for even a short amount of time. Even though he wasn't a contracted Servant, he wasn't an Archer class in the Fourth War for nothing; he knew how to use his Gate of Babylon to devastating effect. Since the Gate of Babylon existed as a Noble Phantasm, and Gilgamesh was still somewhat tainted by the Grail's massive power after being Incarnated, he could go on for a long, long time. Indeed, the idiot of a king was randomly shooting various treasures of the world at me, paying no attention to what I was actually doing.

I was analyzing each and every weapon he threw at me and threw it back at him the second it appeared within my Reality Marble, Unlimited Blade Works.

The good part of that was that Unlimited Blade Works was a part of myself, and as I assimilated the weapons into myself, materializing them cost literally nothing more than a split-second of thought and some prana. The bad part of that was twofold: firstly was that Gilgamesh quite possibly had an _endless_ number of weapons inside the Gate. Since it existed as a Noble Phantasm, I had no idea whether just how many treasures were worth collecting in the past. Hell, we could do it for _hours_, with me getting gradually weaker and Gilgamesh consuming any and all energy within the Gate to keep going.

Not to mention I couldn't keep up with him in terms of _anything_ except weapon deployment.

The other bad part of that was the amount of prana that I had. Even activating my Reality Marble took a good deal of prana, and while creating weapons wasn't as costly when I could literally pull them out of the ground of my self-created World, it still took some. Since I didn't have much prana due to my mangled, incorrectly-developed Circuits, I could only fight him for so long when he had the Gate of Babylon active.

My thoughts were drawn back out of my chances at a win when Gilgamesh threw another volley of swords at me. I tried to recall the speed that Cu Chullain, the Hound of Ulster and Lancer of this particular Holy Grail War displayed when he and Saber fought. Unlimited Blade Works made summoning and utilizing all weapons easier, and although it was a stretch, Lancer's Gae Bolg gave me the speed I needed to dodge.

My entire body filled with lightness that I didn't know could even exist, and I somehow managed to weave around the web of steel that Gilgamesh's "treasured" weapons. I absently knocked my Reality Marble from "dead useful" to "bordering on Sorcery" and then traced Berseker's raw strength by ripping Nine Lives from the sun-baked earth to my left. The speed tapered off. I was aware that my body could only handle so much stress, but I needed every ounce of power I could spare, so I redirected all the od in my 27 subpar Magic Circuits to recreating and then empowering the strongest weapon I could Project: Excalibur.

I'd only seen it used once, but with the sheer proficiency I had with Structural Analysis, once was more than enough to capture the full scale of Excalibur's power. What I created was nothing more than a frame of a frame, a copy of a Noble Phantasm of a weapon forged alongside Avalon as the crystallization of the hopes of the entire planet. Of course, it was still dwarfed by some other weapons: Even a fully-powered Excalibur blast wouldn't be enough to take all twelve of the God Hand's granted lives, and under the correct circumstances Rider's Pegasus, a Divine Phantasmal Creature summoned by the Bellerophon, could overpower it, but there were very few things that could surpass such a weapon.

Gilgamesh had one of those weapons in his Gate. Ea, the fabled Sword of Rupture, an Anti-world weapon that couldn't be defined as a Conceptual Weapon or a Mystic Code, but some abominable clash of the two. It was a weapon from the Age of the Gods, meaning I couldn't Trace it if he decided to pull it out. Even if I could, it wouldn't make much difference; there was no possible way the planet could survive a blast from Ea, not without both Alaya and Arcueid Brunestud themselves intervening. Excalibur wouldn't stand a chance, especially my crude copy of it. I just hoped that Gilgamesh cared enough about ruling the world's civilizations that he'd leave them be and _not_ use Ea.

Excalibur's charge was taking too long for my likings; my utter inability to gather Mana from the world extended the time by a few minutes, but Gilgamesh looked utterly amused by my efforts. "Go ahead, choreboy!" he shouted over the whine of Excalibur's shining blade. "Try it! Your pathetic traces of energy can't even begin to match my power!"

I took a deep breath. He was right. I couldn't match him, and no matter how much I "Faked", I couldn't reach his level of power within my lifetime. So I did the only thing I could do to win.

I brought him down to my level.

Saber had always drilled into me that honor and duty were essential parts of combat, and while I tried not to fight dirty, I really _needed_ to in this case. I ducked below Gilgamesh as he bolted towards me, another sword in his hands. Unlike the ones before it, this one had no name, but I could see power within it that was disturbingly similar to a weapon within Archer's and my collection: Balmung. I Traced the weapon out of instinct, only looking up long enough to see Gilgamesh's flabbergasted expression at the two almost identical crossed blades. His was older than Balmung by a large margin, several of thousands of years at the very least, but it was only stronger than the holy/demonic sword of Sigurd by a very small amount. It was as if this one was the original.

"So, even this one is tainted by your human hands..." Gilgamesh said, almost sadly. The reality struck me like a viper coiled to bite: the sword he was holding _was_ Balmung. Actually, it didn't have a name, but it was still fundamentally the same sword, only with less of a history behind it. It must have actually sucked for him to see this, the "tainting" of the weapons in his Gate by the hands of Heroes that _he_ essentially spawned. Gilgamesh was a brutally cold man, even evil to some people, but in that one moment I allowed myself to pity him just the slighteset bit. I never pitied him again after that, but dead men deserve that much at least.

I was abruptly reminded of Excalibur, still taking prana from me in vast quantities, in my other hand. I brought it up to bear. The very point scuffed the breastplate of his armor as he dove back.

Then there was fire and light.

* * *

My first coherent thought after the light faded was that everything burned. My eyes, my hands, my skin and bones and even my teeth were cracking and blistering. My body wasn't able to handle the stress of having an up-close-and-personal ticket to an Excalibur attack, even when fully Reinforced. My second thought ran along the lines of analyzing my environment. My eyesight was shot, just a single white blur, and my entire body was numb, probably from a combination of burnt nerves and shock, so I had to rely on my other senses. Taste was useless as well, but my hearing and smell gave me a bit of information. Through the smell of thoroughly cooked human, the almost bittersweet scent of cherry blossoms and cool night air hit my nostrils. That, and the swaying of a breeze that wouldn't have been present in my Reality Marble told me that I was no longer inside of Unlimited Blade Works. With my vision slowly returning and a small modicum of motor function remaining, I turned Unlimited Blade Works inside of me and dulled the pain as best I could before propping myself up on my elbows.

My eyes were still blurry, and my depth perception was shot to hell, but even I couldn't mistake the golden blob laying motionless on the ground in front of me. As my vision cleared further I realized that a faint trail of smoke was coming from the downed Gilgamesh's body.

He was dead, and not the kind of dead that returned him to the corrupted Holy Grail, or the Throne of Heroes, but the dead that meant "you're not coming back. Ever."

A sense of elation and relief, promptly blunted by my Reality Marble, bubbled in the pit of my stomach. The Excalibur Image was still in my hand, though it was fading rapidly. I took one final look at it before it dissolved.

Inside me, Avalon was working far too fast to be considered normal. I'd assimilated the Conceptual Weapon when Kiritsugu Emiya, my adoptive father, saved me from a fire caused by the Fourth Holy Grail War ten years prior. It took a long while, but with my summoning of Saber, the Scabbard of Excalibur had finally accepted me as its new bearer and my regeneration abilities multiplied tenfold. It would never give me the pseudo-immortality it gave Saber, but even life-threatening wounds would fade within a day, and if I ever fully mastered its regenerative effects, the regrowth of limbs would be possible within the same time limit.

I looked down when an itching sensation tore at my legs, then my pelvis and waist. The flesh I could see through my blackened and torn jeans was already regenerating and I could even see skin in a few places. A frown split my face. No matter how much of a benefit this extreme regeneration was, it still wasn't normal. Abnormal things were too hard to predict, and an ingrained sense of knowledge that bled off from my Structural Analysis made me uncomfortable around unpredictable things. The same thing occurred around Berserker, and to an extent, Lancer. You couldn't tell what either were going to do next, and it aggravated me almost as much as the prospect of fighting them did.

The itch had already traveled to my chest, and it was creeping farther up my shoulders by the second. I focused on the returning of the cool concrete beneath my back; in the searing inferno caused by Excalibur's Prana Burst, my shirt had probably been sublimated. My chest was healed, now onto my forearms and collarbone.

_Thump._

My heartbeat sounded louder than normal, but I assumed it was just the shock wearing off after my body recognized it was no longer in danger. The itch faded, surprisingly, to a mere tingle in my limbs. It had passed my elbows at that point, and my chin was coating over with fresh skin.

_Thump._

The thudding sound returned, but I didn't have any point of reference to compare its rhythm to. For all I knew, my heart could give out at any moment, but with Avalon's abilities, I doubted it. I tried to call upon some of my od, but the vast majority of it was being redirected through Avalon, leaving me with only enough to summon a sword.

_Thump._

Avalon's healing thaumaturgy reached my face, reconstructing my bones and cartilage. The smell of burnt flesh had mostly faded at that point, leaving behind a multitude of scents; the soft sweetness associated with water, a sharp woody smell that told me I was near pine trees, and a metallic, acrid burning that reminded me of scorched metal.

_Thump._

My eyes were the next to be restored. Color, shape and texture flickered into focus in an instant, and it took a moment to regain my bearings. My body was emitting a faint white glow reminiscent of Saber during her Prana Bursts. The light flooded the ugly, blackened flesh of my hands, transforming them into healthy ones in an instant. The light continued to travel after it reached my fingertips, pulsing directly into the street beneath me.

Then the weird stuff began to happen.

The asphalt turned a lush green color before my very eyes, and a patch of soft grass sprouted between my fingers. The grassy patch spread like a wildfire, and before I knew it, I was laying against the crest of a hill, a grasslands of incomparable beauty around me. The towering buildings of Fuyuki City were nowhere in sight. In contrast to the worry and tension I should have been feeling, a sense of peacefulness washed over me, rising from the grass to infuse my muscles. I felt like taking a nap, just leaning back, and relaxing for a while.

Then Gilgamesh moved, and any serenity in my system vanished. I pushed myself to my feet with a single spasm of my legs and summoned Excalibur reflexively.

Before I could release the prana construct, confident that I was only able to use the crystallization inside Unlimited Blade Works, the holy sword appeared in my hand. Confused, I attempted to analyze it. To my surprise, my magic failed.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you."

I spun at the voice. The man it belonged to was young, only about my age, with short blond hair that shaded his eyes. He had a hard facial structure and a thin frame, and I could see corded muscles from the bits of skin not hidden by his white tunic and blue pants. He stood just as regally as Saber, and I could see the sheathed blade of Caliburn at his hip. My eyes narrowed.

"That doesn't belong to you," I growled. After fighting with, for and (briefly) against Saber, I'd come to recognize her Noble Phantasms as her possessions. I even asked permission the one time I'd Traced the Sword in the Stone that Chooses Kings. Therefore, it wasn't any surprise that I readied Excalibur when the man pulled Caliburn from its sheath and inspected the blade lazily.

"I'm serious," he continued, not giving any indication that he'd heard me. "Don't try any magecraft here. Avalon will recognize it as an attack and attempt an automatic removal of the threat. And this sword is mine; rather, it's my real counterpart." He resheathed Caliburn and closed the remaining distance, extending a hand as he did so. "I'm the Legend of King Arthur."

I looked at the hand, then buried Excalibur's point into the earth and shook it. "Shirou Emiya."

"I already know who you are, but it's quite nice to be introduced anyway." Arthur held out his hands in an expansive gesture. "What do you think of Avalon?"

"Avalon... a paradise?" I was thinking out loud, but I made no motions to stop doing so. There was a crystal clear lake in the distance, tinted blue by a cloudless expanse of sky. The sun was bright, but not overly so. Near my feet, Gilgamesh moved again, and Arthur kicked him in the head. The King of Heroes slumped, once again unconscious. If this space was Avalon, and if Avalon theoretically existed within the Scabbard, then that meant that Saber was here as well, trapped in an eternal stasis. The thought brought me back to Saber's last words. "One endlessly chasing, the other endlessly pursuing..."

Arthur nodded sympathetically. "Quite so," he said, reaching forward to give me a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Then again, that is your fate. To endlessly chase, and if you break that fate... who knows? You could very well reunite with Arturia in time. But for now, you need to continue your chase."

"Right," I said. I pulled Excalibur from the ground and handed it to Arthur, who took it gratefully. "How do I get out of here?"

Arthur blinked, then threw his head back and laughed. Avalon twinkled with light in response to his amusement. "Oh, that's easy," Arthur said after a moment, still chuckling. "Just grab on to Excalibur. I'll keep the King of Heroes in here for a while. A word of warning, though: Avalon was only able to pull the barest essentials of your soul inside of it. Your body is probably already dead, and your Magic Circuits are nil in here. The only way to keep going is to transplant yourself into someone else's body."

"So I'd become a Homunculus?" I asked. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing; Homunculi were often used by the more twisted Magi for experiments regarding the human soul, from what I could glean of Illyasviel von Einzbern's maids, they were also Homunculus, only Altered into familiar-like servitude of Ilya.

I was surprised when Arthur shook his head. "No, you'd be invading another human's body and assimilating their soul. Homunculi are created, while you are merely displaced. Think of it like a hijacking, or a revolution."

I frowned. That didn't sound good, but I was longing to go out and continue my "pursuit" once more. At the very least, I wanted my magecraft, however feeble it was, back. If it meant sacrificing somebody else's soul, however...

Arthur must have been able to interpret my facial expressions, because his expression turned a little tense. "Look, I'm not saying you have to like it, I'm saying you have to do it. Sorry about this, Shirou, but you don't exactly have a choice."

With a motion that would have made Saber proud, he thrust Excalibur into my grip and closed my fingers around the hilt. Before I could drop it, Excalibur was bleeding pure light, and everything faded. The ground dropped out from beneath me, and then I was falling.

* * *

I sat up, gasping, as reality reasserted itself. My eyes were still used to the bright light of Excalibur, so the darkness of the room was disconcerting. I almost began Tracing Kanshou and Bakuya, but then I remembered what Arthur had said, and I stopped just before reaching out with my od. Instead, I sat stock-still and waited for my eyes to clear to discern my location.

A warrior fought with all five senses, and while anyone with any sense would blow me off as a warrior, I'd still learned to fight with more than my eyes. All I could hear was a swishing of wind outside and the indiscernible buzz most people associated with lonely darkness. I could feel something soft covering my lower half, and I ran my hands gently along the fabric, hesitant to use Structural Analysis. I sent out a pulse.

I was floored by the response I received.

There wasn't anything unusual about the material itself; it was a standard 61.43/38.57 blend of cotton and polyester, respectively. No what was strange wasn't my surroundings, but me.

Or rather, what used to be me. I was fairly sure that before the incident inside Avalon I didn't have a total of _seventy four_ Magic Circuits, each one working at maximum efficiency.

Whatever Arthur had done inside of Avalon had changed me, or if he was really telling the truth, had made me consume the soul that resided within this body. That made me want to retch a little, but I forced the bile down.

My eyes finally adjusted enough for me to see. I was in a bedroom, a fairly large one at that, that was decorated in a very Western style. Instead of the sparse furnishings and tatami mats I'd grown up with in the Emiya estates, this one had full carpeting and pastel blue and gold wallpaper. There was a small desk on one side of the room, opposite of the bed. A fold-out door probably lead to a closet set into a wall. A dresser was next to it, a freshly polished mirror hanging above the smooth mahogany cupboard. A set of cubbyholes were screwed into the wall to my right, filled with books and various trinkets.

I stepped out of the bed and looked into the mirror. The body was younger than I was previously, but still a few years older than I'd been during the Fire. This person's entire body, from the hands to the torso and even the shoulders, was thin and bony, with a bit of muscle but not much. I made a mental note to fix that and moved on to "my" face. "I" was blond, with much the same hairstyle as my previous body, only a bit more tame. My face didn't have many defining features yet, other than the piercing blue eyes that stared back at me. The look was so utterly alien, even though I hadn't looked myself in the mirror for a few weeks, that I took a step back and felt my cheek just to confirm that, indeed, this was now _my_ face.

I was now this teenage secondary-schooler.

My next task was done unconsciously. Even as my mind tried to sort things out, I began running through and Tracing various weapons in my mind. But really, I was a kid again? That gave me dozens upon dozens of chances to save people, to become an Ally of Justice like Kiritsugu had been for me. This gave me a chance to get strong enough to fulfill my ideals, and to make good on my promises. To Kiritsugu... and Saber.

A spear appeared in my hand, replaced by the ancient contract-severing dagger, Rule Breaker, and then followed by another spear, this one blood red. A jolt of phantom pain lashed through the spot where my heart was, and I dropped my free hand from my face to my chest in an attempt to rub the feeling away. I looked at the barbed point and winced. The lance was Gae Bolg, the spear of the legendary Cu Chullain. In the very beginning of the Fifth Grail War (before it had technically even started, actually), I'd been stabbed directly in the heart by the famed spear, and only a Jewel Mage of the highest level, Rin Tohsaka, was able to fix it. Even then, it greatly helped that Avalon had been implanted into me, because it reduced my recovery time from days to a few minutes.

I frowned at the memory and dismissed Gae Bolg. That was the night when Saber had appeared for the first time, and also the first time I'd ever spent any amount of time with Rin Tohsaka or my Counter Guardian other half, the Archer Servant EMIYA.

I was restless, and even a child's resolute sleepiness during the wee hours of the morning wasn't enough to drop me. I sat in the chair next to the desk and rummaged around in its drawers. After a minute, I pulled out an unopened journal and, through a little more digging past crayons, a few semi-sharp pencils. I opened the book and set the tip to the page.

_Journal Log_

_Date: Unknown_

_I don't know where I am or who I am. My name is Shirou Emiya, but I'm currently inhabiting the body of a blond child. I'll fill in the information of my arrival in this predicament at a later date, but for now, I believe that reconnaissance is the best course of action. I'll try to discreetly wheedle some information out of the boy's parents, or if that doesn't work, the nearest library._

I shut the journal with a soft but sharp snap and placed it back in its cupboard. I stood and began meandering around the room, thinking of something to do. Out of impulse, I checked the moon.

Then all thought processes ceased, and I simply stood there, mouth hanging open.

The moon was _broken_. A few cracks ran along the whole part of its surface, but a good half of the moon was broken into asteroid-sized chunks, slowly orbiting themselves and an off-colored chunk in the center that I assumed was the core. Somehow, important thoughts escaped my mind, and I was left wondering if the Type-Moon would be angry enough to hurl the moon at the planet if he saw it. I wasn't feeling anything close to amusement, more like shock and utter disbelief, but even despite that a faint chuckle emerged from my throat.

I spent a few more minutes just blankly staring at the shattered satellite, then tore my eyes away and inspected my Magic Circuits. I knew I had seventy four, and I knew that they worked at least as efficiently as Rin's did, but other than that, there was nothing. I pulled the image of a gun into my head, the hammer already drawn back. I took a deep breath, then depressed the mental trigger.

All seventy four blazed to life, pulling in mana and generating od at the same time. The amount shocked me, and I shut them off out of instinct before hesitantly opening thirteen again. Rin's Circuits could maintain about thirty units of prana per Circuit, and my Circuits during the War could only use about ten, and even then it damaged them slightly each time I used them. Now, however, these Circuits utilized almost fifty units each, bringing my total prana utilization to 3700, about three times as much as Rin at her strongest. I'd need to train with these a lot to use them to their fullest extents.

I shut off the thirteen active Circuits one by one, trying to get a feel for them. Instead of the sudden rush that I was used to, it felt like opening and shutting off a valve. My inactive Circuits probably weren't gathering ambient mana, but there was a reservoir of prana that resided inside them, unlike my past ones that dissipated any od when I shut them off. I shut off all but one Circuit and Traced one more Noble Phantasm, only half-expecting it to work.

To my surprise, Excalibur appeared in my hand, blade shining softly with pearlescent motes of moonlight. The blade wasn't of human make, nor was it created with earthly materials, so the only place I could Trace even a fragile image of the sword was inside Unlimited Blade Works, since the materials used to create such weapons no longer existed in the age I lived in. The fact that I could summon a much stronger replica of it within the physical world meant one of two things: I was either in a time or place that contained the materials used to create a crystallization of an idea, or I was in tune enough with Unlimited Blade Works to project my Reality Marble within a limited, interlocking space in the real world. I personally hoped for the latter to be true, but knowing my luck, it was the former. Still, whatever place had the ability to forge things like Excalibur was _dangerous_. I would have to be careful from that point on.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Leave a review on your way out, and if you enjoyed, follow and favorite! If I made any grammatical errors, or if you have constructive criticism, please leave it in the reviews.**


	2. On the Development of Magic Circuits

**Welcome back to Remnant of Cursed Paradise! I've finally decided on a regular release schedule for chapters. Until I've run out of my pre-written ones, chapters will be released every Tuesday and Saturday. I do reserve the right to change this in case I get in an accident or something of that nature, but it should stay fairly consistent. **

**There have been several reviews that have discussed F/SN mechanics in this story, but I'll get to those at the end. Until then, please enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 2: On The Development of Magic Circuits Within The Aura Field

Jeanne Arc didn't know what exactly was wrong with her son, she just knew something was.

It wasn't something that most people would notice, but she wasn't Jaune's mother for no reason. When he walked downstairs at the crack of dawn, she immediately took note of the changes. His eyes, once so full of childish excitement and innocence, scanned the house blankly, the faintest hints of wariness bleeding through in his expression. His gait was more guarded than before, and his hands twitched whenever he looked at the sheathed decorative sword resting on a plaque above the mantel, as if the weapon was going to unleash itself and fly at him. When he hit the bottom landing, he noticed her, and she gave him her usual smile.

"good morning, Jaune," she greeted cheerfully, just like she usually would. There was a trace of doubt that still bled through her voice, however. "How'd my wonderful son sleep?"

Jaune (she was sure it was still Jaune; a mother's instincts were powerful) scratched the back of his head, a gesture she'd never seen him do before. "Not very well," he admitted quietly. "I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep. I guess I'm a little tired." A concerned look briefly passed her face. The old Jaune was as oblivious as his father used to be, but today's Jaune caught her worried expression in an instant. "Don't worry though!" he continued. "I feel fine, if a little peckish."

Jeanne nodded and smiled serenely. Jaune didn't use words like peckish either; he preferred a simpler, more blunt vocabulary. "Would you like to help me in the kitchen?" she asked. Jaune's eyes brightened and he almost leaped across the threshold, taking in the appliances with sharp attention.

"I'd love to." It didn't take a mother to realize he meant it.

* * *

The woman (Jeanne was her name, I found out after a few minutes) was wary about my presence. I obviously didn't act like Jaune, but I liked to think I was doing a passable job of being a kid.

That was, until she offered help cooking breakfast.

Kitchens had always been my greatest strength. I loved to cook, more than I loved tinkering with machines. I looked around the decently sized room. It didn't have a few of the more essential things from Japan, like a rice cooker or rolling mats, but those kinds of things weren't common outside of Japan, so there was a good chance I was outside of my native country's sphere of influence, if I was even still on Earth. I could solve those things easily enough anyway; a pot would substitute for a rice cooker easily enough, and I could go without sushi rolls and the like or just Trace one into existence.

I got to work, almost entirely ignoring my new mother's existence except to maneuver around her and ask her to grab a few ingredients from a pantry. There was some salmon, or at least something that looked and felt like salmon, in the fridge, and a bag of rice sat on a shelf that was almost out of my reach. It was heavy, but even as a child it was simple enough to Reinforce my arms to carry the large load to a nearby counter.

I worked quickly and efficiently. There weren't any pickled vegetables in the fridge, but I did find some radish to go with the omelet. I set the salmon in the pan and watched it closely, unaware of "my" mother watching me closely.

* * *

Jeanne stood back, shock filling her system as Jaune bustled around the kitchen, gathering the most unusual of ingredients. She was expecting him to try something simple, maybe scrambled eggs at the most, but then she saw him pull a salmon fillet out of the fridge. He set a pot of rice on a burner and a griddle pan on another. With one hand, he neatly skinned the salmon and placed it on the pan, while the other set a third pan on another burner and cracked two eggs into a bowl. Then he lifted a bag of rice that weighed half as much as he did, his arms gleaming with white Aura. She blinked, and there was a whisk in his hand, and he was speedily beating the eggs together and pouring them into the pan. Another blink, and the salmon was already done grilling. Jaune pulled a knife from a shelf, and that's when her warning signals went off.

She started to move, ready to pull the blade from his hands and berate him, but then she noticed that the knife had already cut half the salmon into thin strips. Within the next ten seconds, the other half was separated as well, and the knife was already in the sink, ready to be washed. Before he could make any other sudden moves, she stepped forward, determined to put a stop to this utterly bizarre behavior..

"I'll watch the rice, alright?" she said, putting some force into the suggestion. Jaune blinked and nodded.

"Ari- ah, thank you," he stuttered out. He turned his back to her again, this time muttering something about "soy sauce".

What the hell was soy sauce?

* * *

Breakfast was ready. I glanced around the kitchen one more time, fairly satisfied with how everything worked out. I didn't have half of the ingredients that I usually used to make breakfasts, but I still managed to cobble together some rice, grilled fish, and two omelets with daikon radish.

I ferried everything out to the dining room and sat in a chair, Jeanne doing the same across from me. She had an unreadable look on her face as she contemplated the food thoughtfully.

Then it hit me. Jaune Arc definitely did not cook entire breakfasts for his family. I almost palmed my face in utter frustration. How could I be so stupid?

I managed to control my emotions, although a hint of my irritation and self-doubt must have emanated from me, because Jeanne looked at me worriedly. I just gave her a light smile and she turned away, unsatisfied but significantly less stressed than before.

More steps sounded from the top of the stairs, and a large male figure came stumbling down. This was probably Jaune's father, if looks were anything to go by. He was blond, like me, but his face was significantly more sculpted and regal than mine was. Every inch of him was decked with ropy muscle that contrasted with his medium frame. I wouldn't be surprised if he could effortlessly rip a normal human's jaw off, something most people couldn't do in the first place. He rubbed the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, and I realized my blue eyes must have come from Jeanne. This man's were a piercing green that made me fidget a little when they trained on me.

"G'morning," he grunted, sitting down at the table with a thump. He eyes my breakfast carefully. "What's this? A bit unusual for breakfast, isn't it, Jeanne?"

Jeanne shook her head and pointed to me. "It's not mine this time, Gillian," she said. "Jaune made this by himself."

Gillian's eyes flicked back to me, a clear note of surprise etched onto his sharply defined face. "You made this, Jaune?" he asked, slightly disbelieving. He eyed the rice and salmon neatly arranged on his plate, before picking up a fork and tasting the fish. He chewed twice, thoughtfully, and swallowed. "Not bad," he decided. "A bit salty, but it's refreshing and pleasant. You've done a good job, Jaune."

I smiled at him and nodded, then tucked into my meal. It was good, like Gillian had said, but it wasn't up to my standards. I'd need to either find some equivalent to the ingredients back home or make them myself. In a pinch, I could always try to Alter another ingredient to taste however I wanted to, but I wasn't entirely sure how that would affect the food and, more importantly, the human body.

The food was finished quickly. Jeanne and Gillian liked my food, and although I ate at a more sedate pace than they did, it was still faster than I normally did. I had the impression that Jaune ate quickly, and I must have been right, because neither of them batted an eyelash at my actions. It was a shame I couldn't fully savor the taste of my own creations, though.

I cleared the table after everyone was finished and sat down in my chair. Jeanne and Gillian were still at the table, talking comfortably, a mug of coffee in Gillian's hand.

"What are you going to do today, Jaune?" Jeanne asked me. She steepled her fingers together and rested her chin on them, seeming more like an interrogator than a conversationalist. I rubbed the back of my head again, out of reflex, and took a second to decide.

"I think I'm gonna go for a hike later," I said. There was a forest by the house, from what I could see of the window. It was hilly and rocky, but the trees were plentiful, and I could see the outline of a trail leading into the woods.

Both of the adults looked surprised by my choice. "Are you sure?" Jeanne asked, laying a hand over mine. Her skin was warm and reassuring, like a mother's would be. "You know there are Grimm out in the forest. What if one corners you?"

Grimm? That was another thing I'd have to look up at a library. Maybe some sort of native predator?

Nevertheless, I shook my head and gave her my best disarming smile. "I'll be fine, mom," I said. The word felt alien, and I'm sure it lacked much of the affection that most people put into it. I'd never had a mother, or if I did, I couldn't remember her after the Fuyuki Fire. Kiritsugu had been my only parent, and even he was more of an instructor at times.

I shook my head again, trying in vain to clear the distant memories. "I'll stick to the trail," I continued, "and if I run into any Grimm I'll run straight back here, okay?"

Jeanne still looked immensely worried. Surprisingly, it was Gillian that came to my defense. He handed me something from his belt. I turned it over and automatically tapped into Structural Analysis. A steel dagger, nothing too complex, was in my hands.

"Use that if you get in trouble, Jaune," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. I nodded and stood, freeing my hand from Jeanne's grip.

I made sure I was outside the Arc family's house before I activated my Magic Circuits and Reinforced my legs. The dagger was useless to me by that point; I'd already stored it within Unlimited Blade Works, and I had enough prana to summon thousands of copies of it before running dry. A warm sensation overcame the muscles in my legs as the Reinforcement took effect.

It struck me that my body shouldn't have been able to hold nearly the amount of prana that it had been before. I was sixteen and scraggly, not a seventeen-year-old teen with decent physical ability who was conditioned to Reinforce my body to the limit. My legs should have disintegrated by now.

Then I realized that there was a barrier preventing me from pumping all that prana into me. I'd reached some sort of limit, about a third of my previous maximum, and the barrier wouldn't let me go any farther. I took a look at my legs. There was a milky glow shimmering around them.

I decided not to look this gift horse in the mouth and reinforced the rest of my body to its limit. My five senses sharpened threefold, while the white sheen coated the rest of my body and set the limit for my Reinforcement. I tried to estimate the exact amount of prana and shut off my Circuits, then activated them a split second later and used slightly less. This time the barrier didn't make itself known, nor did the white glow. It would take a while to adjust my Reinforcement to this body's limits, almost an arduous a process as the first time around, but at the end it would be well worth it, and I wouldn't have to fear dying if I pushed too much prana around.

I bolted into the forest as fast as I could, already Tracing Kanshou and Bakuya, if only for the comfort of feeling their weight in my hands. I Altered them to fit my smaller body and set out on a trek.

* * *

It was only an hour into the forest when I encountered a Grimm.

Granted, I didn't know for sure if it was a Grimm at the time or not, but I was fairly sure that only something so dark could ever be called anything close to grim. I was deviating from the path slightly, searching for anything similar to my own world. The trees and plants were mostly the same, confirmed by a quick Structural Analysis. Civilization was probably in the other direction, and I found a few small rabbits in the undergrowth (one of which scared me so bad I accidentally killed it out of reflex), but that was all.

Until I stumbled across the Grimm, of course.

It was strange, and I meant that in the thaumaturgical sense. Most creatures had souls, and all sapient ones had a complex interaction between the soul and the body. Those with powerful souls developed Magic Circuits, and could become Magi with training. The Grimm, however, didn't have souls. It was just a body wreathed in darkness that felt disturbingly similar to All the World's Evils. It was shaped vaguely like a wolf, with long, gangly arms and legs that looked better for standing than running on all fours. Its face was long and covered by a bony white mask. I couldn't see any expression within its burning orange eyes, just blankness. Even when it roared at me and bounded forward, there wasn't any emotion whatsoever.

I rolled to the right and vaulted over a large root jutting from the ground. It took the Grimm less than a second to reorient itself and turn on a dime, charging after me once more. I brought Kanshou and Bakuya up in an X pattern, digging my feet into the ground and Reinforcing my body slightly. Our forces clashed. I brought the Grimm to a standstill and pushed it away by Reinforcing my arms further. Kanshou was released from my hand by instinct. The blade struck true, burying into the Grimm's flank with a wet shhlick. Before it had time to register what had happened I was already moving forward. My incomplete control of my new Magic Circuits pushed too much prana into Bakuya. The blade doubled in length and became ramrod straight, with jagged white crystals running up the back edge. This was Bakuya's Overedge form, when I pumped the Noble Phantasm so full of prana that it could explode at the slightest attack.

I swung, and the blade did just that.

White shards of steel erupted into the air, startling the few birds that were still in the area. More than half of Bakuya's Broken form was digging into the Grimm's neck and shoulder painfully. The other chunks ended up lodged in trees and rocks around me. Thankfully, the semi-sentience that allowed Kanshou and Bakuya to find each other no matter what also extended to recognizing their wielder, because none of the fragments hit me.

I huffed a breath, the flow of adrenaline and prana leaving my body. The Grimm was already beginning to decompose. Wisps of shadowy fur rose into the air, accompanied by a weak, almost pathetic howl. Kanshou dissipated like the antithesis of the Grimm, warm motes of light shattering upon contact with the air. I glared at the disintegrating Grim for another moment, daring it to move, before turning away. There were a few furrows in the ground that signalled a fight, but nothing to suggest I'd been there, so I trekked back to the path and continued through the forest. I was thirsty; maybe there was a stream nearby?

* * *

Gillian Arc looked at his son impassively. He refused to allow the inherent shock or disbelief to show on his face or in his actions; a single stray move would give his position away, and he didn't want to explain to his headstrong son that he'd been followed to ensure his safety.

Jeanne had been terrified of letting her son into the woods, and to an extent, Gillian agreed. The forest was one of their regular hunting grounds and most of the Grimm were smart enough to either stay out of the way or flee the forest altogether. The only remaining stragglers at that point were a few stray Beowolves who didn't have enough thought process to heed their hunts as anything other than a challenge. Jeanne had almost begged him to follow Jaune into the woods to make sure he had a safe walk.

He would have done it anyway, but he agreed to his wife's demands, and found himself perched in the branches of thick pines more than fifty feet tall. It all started when out of nowhere, Jaune pulled a pair of swords out. They were large swords of Eastern make, from the few he'd seen before. One was black steel with a contrasting white triangle that jutted along the spine, while the other was white steel with a black triangle. They shrunk to fit his size, and Gillian could see Jaune gradually falling into a gait that would allow him to fall into stance in a moment. The only hole in his guard was a gaping one, revealing his right side to any and all attackers. Gillian's eyes narrowed, and pondering on these new predicaments, he followed his son into the woods.

Jaune stayed on the trail for the most part, only deviating when he inspected a plant and once when the black sword lashed out, decapitating a rabbit with ease. His son looked distinctly embarrassed afterwards and glanced around so as to make sure he was alone.

That set Gillian on edge more than anything else. It was always possible that Jaune had been training after hours, when he and his wife were asleep, and that he had simply asked one of their family friends to awaken his Aura and he'd discovered some sort of storage-based Semblance. The swords, while uncommon, weren't anything too unusual either; most Huntsmen carried eclectic and bizarre weaponry, and those two swords wouldn't have even been in his top ten for strangest blades.

No, what worried Gillian most was how Jaune had reacted to the rabbit.

Even he'd barely heard it, with his Aura-enhanced senses, but the rustling in the bushes must have been clear as day to his son. Jaune reacted without hesitation, his short white -blond hair sway slightly. The only two movements were a flick of the arm and a swerve away from the bush that brought the other sword up to bear. It was the work of someone who was not only a master with those weapons, but one who was used to high-speed combat. Gillian saw his son's muscles bunch together in preparation to either leap forward and deliver a cleaving blow or jump back and prepare for a charge.

Gillian became wary. His son was more dangerous than he looked.

He was tense for another forty minutes as Jaune continued through the woods. He would scan the area and head towards a flower or bush, then change his mind and return to the trail. It was only when a Beowolf leapt from a bush, hidden to both of their senses, that he prepared for battle. Then he took his hands off the eternally sharp heirloom sword that his twelve-greats grandfather wielded, and sat back to gauge Jaune's reactions.

His son didn't disappoint. Jaune instantly moved back and pulled the swords in a cross pattern to catch the Beowolf's claws. They connected, and surprisingly, Jaune stopped the Beowolf where it stood.

It seemed his son was stronger than he looked as well.

Jaune pushed the Beowolf away and threw the black sword, catching it in the shoulder. A second later, the white sword exploded in a growth of crystalline steel. Jaune stepped forward and slashed, and the sword erupted.

The blast radius was impressive. Gillian absently swung out of the way of a white crystal, observing Jaune all the while. He was untouched by the shards of the sword. The Beowolf, however, was not, every inch being bifurcated by softly glowing steel. The white and black slowly faded, becoming smoke and light respectively and braiding together to become a latticework of dancing light and darkness. Jaune picked the black sword out of the ground and the white one reappeared in his slack left hand. Gillian's eyes narrowed. He'd seen the white sword explode into a million pieces. There was a chunk of steel buried in the bark next to his head as proof. When he turned his head, however, only a deep furrow remained, the metal having vanished moments before.

Gillian's frown became even more pronounced. As proud of his son as he was, the boy had far too many secrets. He'd get them out of him later, but for now, he could leave Jaune knowing that the boy was at least a decent fighter.

* * *

I almost casually spun out of the way, diving around the swordlike claws of the Grimm and slashing across its throat with Bakuya. My style was suicidal, and built on years worth of experience from both myself and Archer. The hole in my guard was so obvious even the Grimm recognized it and attacked at that spot. It was the third Grimm I'd killed in the past hour, and in the same method each time.

I allowed the Grimm to fall to the ground, dead, and dropped Bakuya into its skull just in case. The sword landed with a thunk, splitting through bone and brain with ease. I could see the end of the path in the distance. Only wild growths laid beyond it, and there was no doubt in my mind that past that point Grimm and other dark creatures were the lords of the forest. It was surprising, how much territory they'd given away to Jaune's parents. Then again, I had no idea of knowing just how tough Jeanne and Gillian were compared to me.

The big problem with me was my strength. I understood that my abilities were lower than they would be at age eighteen, but they were low, even for sixteen years old. I'd have to develop a workshop and create a book like the ones detailing the Servants' stats in the Grail Wars. I wanted to know just what was wrong with me.

After reaching the end of the path and looking out past it to the underbrush, I turned back towards the Arc house. It didn't take nearly as long for the small home to come into view; I wasn't distracted by the similarities between Jaune's world and mine anymore, and Reinforcing my legs was easier. It seemed that just like in my old life, the more one practiced with their Magic Circuits, they more control they had over them.

My legs were only barely starting to get warm by the time I broke through the treeline and slowed to a walk. I looked up at the Arc house. I didn't notice it before, but it was a welcoming home, much like the Western style. Gone was the familiar one-story, sprawling complex, replaced with a building that built up instead of out. The roof was black shingling, while the walls were a creamy white that was tinged with yellow. There wasn't a fence, but I didn't see any need for one, since the closest house I could see was more than a mile away. The open field behind the house would make a good practice spot once I was a little older and they weren't so suspicious of what they thought was Jaune's sudden change in behavior.

I was so preoccupied by how I was noting my surroundings that I almost forgot to unravel Kanshou and Bakuya. The moment the sparkles of light faded, Gillian popped his head out the door, spying up the trail. He noticed me, and his eyes brightened.

"Ah, good to see you made it back safe," he said. Then he trained his eyes on my cheek, and his face twisted into a look of concern mixed with confusion. "You didn't run into a Grimm, did you? I know there are a few Beowolves running about down that trail."

I felt my cheek. I wasn't feeling any pain, so I was surprised when a thin smear of blood came away on my finger. "It must have been a branch or something. I didn't even feel it before now, honest."

Gillian's frown lightened a little, but he was still profoundly unhappy with the wound. "I see," he said after a moment. "Well, it's nothing to be worried about, then. Let's head inside and put a bandage on that. Your mother's going to be worried sick, you know."

Again, I rubbed the back of my head. I followed him inside.

Within seconds, I was set upon by Jeanne, worry and franticness expressed plainly in her eyes. "Are you alright, Jaune?" she asked immediately. "You didn't run into any Grimm, did you? Wait, what's that cut on your face? You did, didn't you?" She squeezed me, hard, and I couldn't help but cough a little at the bone-breaking hug. "I warned you about the Grimm! It could have taken your head off, you know!"

"Calm down, Jeanne," Gillian said. He looked like he was trying not to laugh, and by the small shake in his shoulders and the amused smile on his face, he was failing. "He said it was just a branch."

"Y-yeah, mom," I sputtered, trying to regain my breathing faculties. They were worried about me, I knew that, but I couldn't help but feel a bit irritated by Jeanne's smothering. Even Sakura and Taiga didn't freak out about my injuries to such an extent. "I didn't run into any Grimm while I was out, I promise."

Jeanne finally released me, looking me over at arm's length. "Mmm. Well, if you're sure. Why don't you go upstairs and clean up while I get lunch ready?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling eager to get away from Jeanne and have a moment to myself, if only to find that journal and write another entry. In time, it could become the first notebook in my new workshop, but for now, I needed to get my thoughts organized. I was lost, in a world that was as unfamiliar with me as I was with it, and I needed to collect myself and make observations.

I excused myself to Jaune's room, all the time aware of Gillian and Jeanne watching my back.

* * *

"So, was he really okay?" Jeanne asked. The second she felt Jaune's presence rise to the second floor, she started interrogating her husband. Gillian looked contemplative, but he eventually answered.

"He's... been holding out on us," he began carefully. "I'm sure he's been sneaking out at night to train, or at least exercise. He was able to go farther into the forest than I expected him to be able to. He ran all the way to the edge of the trail and back without getting short of breath."

Jeanne's eyes widened. "But that's four miles, round trip!" she exclaimed. Gillian nodded.

"Exactly. And he was lying about encountering a Beowolf." Before Jeanne could explode in outrage, he silenced her, contemplating his words at the same time. He'd rather observe Jaune's ability with his weapons for himself before exposing his son's swordsmanship to his wife. "He's very resourceful, and he didn't even need to pull the knife I gave him to defeat it. He left a gaping hole in the left side of his guard, but I think he knew it was there, because he jumped out of the way of the Beowolf that tried to get him, and he did it like he knew it was going to strike there. It's a suicidal style, one that'll get him killed if he makes the slightest misstep, but it relies on his opponents being physically better than he is."

"I see," Jeanne said, mulling over the idea in her head. "By leaving openings for his opponents to exploit, he can predict where they'll strike and take appropriate countermeasures. It's meant as a check-and-counter style of fighting, isn't it?"

Gillian nodded. "It is," he agreed. "Jaune managed to outmaneuver it long enough that it impaled itself on a nearby boulder with a sharp protrusion." He made sure to keep any mention of Jaune's swords out of the equation. His wife was a skilled Huntress that knew how dangerous a trained swordsman could be, but she was still Jaune's mother, and watching her son run around with pointy things would give her a heart attack at the least. "Jaune's faster and stronger than I expected him to be, but he's still not at the level of a Signal student. Hah... I guess that means my chances of getting a prodigy son like Taiyang's daughters are still unfounded."

Jeanne laughed and patted him on the arm. "Don't worry, dear. Jaune's an Arc, and if there's one thing I've learned about Arcs, it's that you people never cease to surprise everyone."

Gillian managed to turn his wide grin into a small twitch of the lips. The Arcs were all full of mysteries and surprises, weren't they? He'd have to ask Jaune for a spar in the night, to see just how many surprises the boy could spring on his old man.

* * *

The rest of the day went typically. After taking a few minutes to write in my new journal, I cleaned up in the bathroom and ate lunch with the Arcs. Then we all sat down in the family room for television and some light-hearted conversation. I was surprised at the level of technology that these people had developed; while I hadn't seen a single car so far, there were airships in the skies of the movie we were watching, and the screen of the television itself was a holographic image, lightly tinted blue. During that time, I tried to glean some more information about Jaune's family.

My efforts weren't fruitless, but they definitely left me with more questions than ever before. The world was technologically advanced to the point that VTOL airships, a fairly rare sight in the old world aside from two-seater helicopters, were used as commercial transport between the four major kingdoms on the planet. I'd also learned that aside from those four kingdoms, there were very few places where humanity had managed to settle down. Apparently, the Grimm I had fought were only one subspecies of an entire race of dark creatures without souls that had nearly overrun the planet, Remnant, more than a thousand years ago. Why is it always thousands with these things? Caster consumed thousands of souls to stay alive, Gilgamesh had summoned over a thousand treasures during our battle. Hell, even my own Reality Marble referenced thousands: "I have created over a thousand blades".

Anyway, I'd learned that Jaune was the eighth child of a family of Huntsmen and Huntresses, warriors who fought off the impending Grimm invasions for a living. Apparently, the Arc family name was well known for producing prodigies of unparalleled level. Jaune must have been the exception to that, because I could see a bit of disappointment enter Gillian's eyes when he talked about me following in his footsteps.

Well, I had no intention of neglecting my newfound skills during my growth back into adulthood, so I would just have to surprise him by becoming better than he ever expected.

After leaching all the information out of them as I could, I left my parents be and, despite the temptation to begin cooking dinner, I headed up to my room. The journal was almost filled a quarter of the way now, just with my notes of what was going on and the studies of the world around me. I hesitantly flipped a few of my Magic Circuits again, trying to get a good feel for them, and Traced Gae Bolg once more.

I stared at it for a moment, biting my lip, then dismissed it and made an ugly noise in the back of my throat. I shouldn't have been dwelling on it, I really shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. Looking back at the memories contained within Gae Bolg made me feel even more disgusted with myself.

If only I'd been a better Magus, if I'd gotten a better grasp on the situation, if I'd only taken action sooner, everyone that Lancer had killed just to keep his existence a secret would still be alive. If I'd taken more time to study my Thaumaturgy, like any normal Magus would, I'd probably have been able to unlock my Reality Marble far sooner than the Grail War. I could have matched Berserker before it had a chance to demolish a city block in a fit of rage against Saber and Archer. Maybe if I'd gotten to Rin and Sakura before Shinji and Zouken had, I could have saved Rider from being forcibly contracted to Shinji and Sakura wouldn't have been implanted with those utterly vile Crest worms and-

I stopped myself. Even though I might have been able to at one point, I still hadn't, and however awful a person that made me, it didn't mean that moping about those things could change it. I wouldn't have been able to save Sakura if I'd tried; as old as he was, Zouken was a ridiculously powerful Magus to have stayed alive so long. If it hadn't been for the fact that he didn't suck the blood of humans, I wouldn't have hesitated to call him a Dead Apostle Ancestor with how old and unnatural he was.

Looking back on it, I realized I couldn't have changed as many things as I thought I could. I'd only really discovered myself after I'd summoned Saber and the Sword and the Scabbard had been reunited once more. It was only through Saber that I'd discovered my Reality Marble. I hadn't even been able to match Berserker in the forest, I'd only been able to project Caliburn and cut off his arm. It had been Saber that defeated him for good, not me. I hadn't even known of Lancer's existence before the Saber summoning, and even though he'd probably killed one or two people after that, most of his nineteen-person murder spree happened before I took my place as a Master in the War.

I looked down at my left arm. The pale skin was so... off. I still expected the red-wrapped, tanned skin from Archer's implanted arm, but no matter how hard I tried, I still couldn't see it. The knowledge was there, the Reality Marble was there... so why wasn't the arm?

Unless Archer and I really were the same. I'd known, somewhere in the back of my mind, that Archer and I had some compatibility when it came to souls, but until now, I never really realized just how similar we were. Of course, he'd chosen the path of the least deaths, while I'd chosen the path of no deaths, but when I looked back, the resemblance between the two of us, hidden by Archer's pessimism, was truly startling.

Gae Bolg rippled once and then dispersed, fading into the gradually darkening room. I looked up at the window, mildly surprised at the setting sun. I must have been sitting on the edge of the bed for at least a half-hour. With a small groan of exertion, I cracked my back and returned to Jaune's family to eat dinner.

* * *

Dinner was quick, but filling, and decidedly tasty. I once again gathered up the dishes and deposited them neatly into the sink to be washed the next morning. Jeanne had already gone up to her and Gillian's room, since dinner had lasted later into the night than anyone expected. Gillian had his back to me, inspecting the contents of the fridge.

I placed the last plate in the sink-

And whipped it back out, instantly Reinforcing the ceramic to its limit and deflecting the deadly flicker of steel that rushed towards me. My childlike muscles weren't used to the reaction, and I was sure that I'd torn a ligament or two, but I simply flooded the metaphysical presence of Avalon with prana and allowed it to do the heavy lifting while I summoned Kanshou to my hand.

Gillian stepped back, an odd gleam in his eyes, and I realized my mistake. It was too late to recall Kanshou, he'd already seen it formed. we both knew that the plate should have shattered upon contact with the steel, and Jaune's eyes normally wouldn't have been able to even see the knife coming, much less transmit information fast enough to react to it. I warily dropped the plate back in the sink and lowered Kanshou. My other hand was ready to pull out Bakuya at a moment's notice.

"We need to talk, Jaune."

* * *

**Well, that was a bit of a turn-around. Honestly, when I started writing this, I expected there to be a lot more worldbuilding in this chapter alone, but the scene kind of just carried me away. Now that that's over with, let's get to the reviews.**

**The Bag of Holding: Um, I never said that Arcueid is all knowing. I was just using her power as a base for the sheer destruction that Ea can cause. It's not the only Anti-World class Noble Phantasm in existence for no reason, after all. Also, Gaea and Alaya are two separate Counter Forces that govern the World. It's not just Gaea.**

**Darkjaden &amp; AGreatReader: This is something that will be discussed in the later half of the story, and quite extensively at that. Remnant _does_ have what equates to a Gaea and Alaya, but they don't recognize Shirou's Tracing as something that would normally be bound by reality. It still takes a toll on his immature reserves, but they don't dissipate nearly as quickly as they do in canon.**

**Ressan: Arthurian Lore is all over the place with Arthur's personality. Mostly they portray him as a good king, but I'm using one of the darker versions that I've found, and in that Arthur can be a bit ruthless to accomplish his (and by extension, Shirou's) ideals and fate.**

**Tekablade: Don't worry, I'm not too worried about it. Everyone has their own interpretation of Nasuverse mechanics, since they're so complicated at some points and extremely vague at others. I've accepted the fact that people are going to give me shit about it, so it's probably not going to change anything.**

**ThatOnePsycho: I've always wondered why most F/SN fics don't point out that Excalibur can't normally be Traced, since it's made by faeries and all.**

**Since those are over, I'm gonna take a minute to talk about the Unlimited Blade Works series. Like... Jesus Christ. I've read the VN (admittedly a long time ago) but Ilya's death and Herakles pulling that thirteenth life out of nowhere... It just stabs you right in the heart, man. And Gilgamesh is, like I wanted him to be from the beginning, even more of a stone cold bastard than I expected. That motherfucker's gonna make a great Big Bad.**

**Anyway, that's it for the Author's Note. I hope you all have a pleasant week, and see you on Saturday!**


	3. Sparring Practice

**Welcome back to Remnant of Cursed Paradise! I don't have a lot to say in the beginning Author's Note, but there's one thing. There will be a basic description of Shirou Emiya in his current state at the bottom of the chapter, so please use this as a reference guide for the majority of the story. Skills marked with slashes between stat levels will progressively rise instead of jumping up and back down again.**

**That's about it, so go ahead and enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Sparring Practice**

It wasn't a suggestion, but a command, and a surprisingly forceful one at that. I forced myself to relax. We both took a seat at the table. Gillian set his elbows on the table and leaned his chin on one hand, leaving the other to curl around his forearm. I set Kanshou on the floor and placed my hands, palm down, on the table.

"You've been training." Another statement, this time with a bit of confusion behind it. "I followed you into the woods earlier, just to make sure you were safe. I was ready to jump at the slightest hint of danger. So imagine my surprise when I find out you can pull swords from nowhere, fight a Beowolf on equal grounds, and promptly kick its ass."

Gillian's voice had grown sharper and colder with each word, and despite my lack of fear, the tiny part of Jaune's brain that associated fear to his father's expression made me flinch almost imperceptibly. Gillian blinked and his expression returned to its impassive mask. "Why did you hide it from us, Jaune? We would have been happy to help you train, no matter what your skill level was."

I frowned. I hadn't expected this development so early. I really thought that I'd have at least a week until I was found out. Gillian was either more perceptive than I originally believed, or I was just an idiot. I was banking on the latter.

"I..." I thought about my answer for a moment, then replied with just a hint of false shame in my voice. Lying wasn't one of my strong suits, and it made me feel a little guilty, but it was better than being found out and either ousted from the family or killed. "I just wanted to surprise you guys. I knew how disappointed you were in not having a genius for a son, not like my sisters. I just wanted to... well, I had a motivation to be better."

Gillian's eyes went wide, then narrow, and finally settled on soft. His hands fell to his sides. "Dammit, Jaune... You really make it hard to be mad at you, you know?" His voice was weary, but through it I could hear a tinge of amusement.

"So I've heard," I replied. I'd gotten the same words, word-for-word, several times from Rin and Sakura, and even once or twice from Saber. I was a reckless guy.

Gods, did it take that much just to make me realize that?

I turned away from Gillian and towards the unfamiliar moon. "I'm trying to be the best person I can be, and the only thing I can do right now is to make myself as strong as I can possibly be."

"You have the right mindset for a Huntsman, you know," Gillian commented. "Let's go outside. I want to test you."

I mutely nodded and picked Kanshou off the floor. He led me out the back door and across the meadows for over a mile, finally reaching a stop in a hundred-foot circle of barren earth. Gillian extended his arm, pulling the sword at his side out and extending it fully. My eyes automatically analyzed it.

It was wonderful.

There was no other way to describe it. The sword itself wasn't anything special; it was just three feet of well-crafted steel, cared for and nurtured. It didn't have any special traits, much less the abilities of a Noble Phantasm, but it had one thing most Noble Phantasms didn't.

Resonance of Steel was a peculiar concept. Some swords, after years upon years of use, developed a small sense of self. They didn't have anything close to a brain, so they interacted through their wielder, infusing ambient mana into their blades to develop emotion. This sword had a Resonance of Steel that indicated it had been used for at least eight centuries, and was already beginning to complete complex thoughts. I felt, more than saw, its presence train on me.

Then, without a word, Gillian launched his body towards mine and slammed the sword into Kanshou with a vicious swing. I grunted, prana filling my muscles, and Traced Bakuya. The black sword flashed through the air and very nearly buried itself in Gillian's ribs, but he jumped back at the last second. He took advantage of my overextension and lunged at my exposed shoulder.

Unfortunately for him, I was expecting his attack, and Reinforcing my body was able to give me the flexibility to whirl out of the way. I threw Kanshou and immediately jumped back again. Gillian twisted his sword and deflected the Yang sword. I watched with some satisfaction as Kanshou's arc took a drastic curve back towards its partner. Then Gillian stabbed forward again, and I leapt back into the action.

In the time that Kanshou took to fully turn around, Gillian was able to execute three different strikes from just as many angles. I managed to block all three, but it was clear to the both of us that he was holding back. A lot. I couldn't help myself; my meager sense of pride convinced me to take the battle to the next level. Bakuya flew after its twin, the pair's paths intersecting right on Gillian's approaching form while another sword appeared and resized itself in my hand.

Durandal flashed with hot white light, signaling its presence on the battlefield. Gillian stumbled in his charge, blinded for the barest of moments, but it was enough. Kanshou and Bakuya converged, one ringing against that beautiful, sentient steel, while the other dug into the skin of his midsection. I prepared to unlock Unlimited Blade Works, the blueprints of a hundred weapons laying themselves out in my mind.

"Trace Bullet," I intoned. I could feel a dozen Magic Circuits open in response to my will, flooding my body with prana. The blades coalesced in midair, ready to be fired at a moment's notice. "Continuous Fire!"

All one hundred swords flew forward at different angles and intervals. The only way to get out of that pincushion-producing blast would be to block it. I made sure not to aim for any vital points, since killing Jaune's father definitely did not fall under Ally of Justice behavior.

That turned out to be a mistake, because the second my rain of swords stopped, Gillian came thundering out of the cloud of dust my attack had kicked up. There was a pure white shield connected to his wrist that looked like it must have weighed twenty pounds, even though he was carrying it with the ease of a man taking in a bag of groceries. Despite the fact that I had thrown more than a dozen rank E Noble Phantasms and eighty two normal swords at it, the paint job wasn't even scuffed.

I shook myself of my reverie of Gillian's weapons and dived to the side when the sword came crashing down on the space where my head was mere seconds before. True to the span of my abilities, Kanshou and Bakuya were in my hand the instant I ran across the blueprints in my head. I accidentally placed too much prana into their production once again, because they shimmered to life in their Overedge forms. I tried to warn Gillian about their explosive tendencies, but he apparently already knew about them, because his blade stopped mid-swing. He took the next part carefully. I already knew how to use Overedge to my advantage, however, and I struck.

Archer's years of experience shone through when Kanshou descended on Gillian's shield. The black blade splintered, lances of blue prana leaking through its cracks. I willed myself to hold the blade together with raw prana for another quarter-second, just long enough to get under Gillian's guard, and released the potent energy within the blade.

The effect was immediate. Thousands of razorlike shards of black steel exploded inside of the reach of Gillian's shield, ricocheting whatever would have hit me back at him. I barely noticed the almost opaque sheen of pale yellow that coated Gillian's body before I had to turn away, lest I'd be blinded by the flash of prana. I threw Bakuya behind me in case the roiling energy set it off as well.

For a split second, it was day, and the darkness of the night seemed utterly insignificant compared to Kanshou's sparkling brilliance. Azure beams were thrown around like stardust between the fragments of the Yang sword. I was sure that Gillian was as dazzled as I was, but I couldn't guarantee that he was still in action behind the throes of my sword's reaction, so I pulled another copy of Durandal from Unlimited Blade Works and stepped away from the explosion. A single shard of Kanshou ejected from the deadly storm, grazing my nose when I turned in a vain attempt to avoid it.

Gillian tripped, but remained standing. The pale, sunny yellow that formed an armor on his body faded. The two copies of Durandal glinted in my hands as I prepared to unleash their miracles. Durandal was forged, in legend, to be one of the sharpest swords in existence, and the Noble Phantasm held true, gaining the property of Razor's Edge upon contact with prana. I'd have to use the blades carefully; as vast as the difference in skill level was between us, I still didn't want to hurt Gillian, and Durandal was one of the _less_ destructive Noble Phantasms in my arsenal.

Then it hit me. I didn't _need_ to use Noble Phantasms to beat him.

The two copies of Durandal shattered, only to be replaced with a white shirasaya katana. I'd only seen this blade a few times, and only once when it was drawn, but I remembered it well. It was the first time I'd ever fully recorded a sword, two years before my participation in the Grail War.

* * *

_I was sitting in a small room, barely big enough for five people to sit in. Taiga-nee was in another room, arguing loudly with her grandfather. As the almost-adoptive brother of the granddaughter of a Yakuza boss, I often found myself in this room. Raiga-ojii-san was a scary person, but a kind one at heart, so I wasn't worried about Taiga's predicament. Instead, I was focused wholeheartedly on the object only ten feet from me, ready to be pulled at a moment's notice._

_It was a sword, a classical Japanese katana without a guard. Instead, the whole item looked like a single, polished white arc of wood when it was sheathed. I'd never seen the blade, but from the pristine condition of the saya, I assumed the steel inside was equally clean and sharp. I didn't know how, but I _knew _that it wasn't just a decorative piece, just like I knew how I'd always hit my target in _kyuudou_._

_At some point Taiga-nee had stopped speaking, but I didn't know when because my attention was utterly focused on that sword. I gathered as many details as I could with my eyes, while my hands longed to know more. Just a simple touch would be enough for me to learn all about the blade; its functions, its framework, its exact makeup laid bare for me in the blink of an eye. That wasn't enough, though. I wanted to know its _history_. I wanted what made it the way it inexplicably was._

"_I see you've taken an interest in Shisui." I flinched, almost feeling the voice as a physical sensation, and turned. Raiga Fujimura was standing by the door, his hands clasped behind his back and his wrinkled face set into a serene expression. I could see his eyes glinting curiously under his large brow. His usual tiger hakama shifted slightly as he reached down for the sword. It seemed to tremble in his grip, as though it didn't like him. _

"_Shisui, sir?" I blurted the words out before I could stop myself, then stopped just short of apologizing for speaking out of turn. Raiga was a very lax individual when it came to manners, even more so for a Yakuza boss, so he would forgive a small slight to properness._

"_Hmm." He wordlessly grunted out an affirmative. The sword's vibrations increased in duration. "It is an heirloom, passed down from the Aoyama clan for generations. Their legends can trace it back to the year 1389 A.D., though it has probably existed for several hundred years before that. It is said that more than fifty masters of the sword have taken up this blade, each one leaving their own techniques to be passed down. I personally haven't learned anything from this blade, but if you would like to, you may have a try at wielding it."_

_My hands, unbidden by my mind, instantly grasped the hilt, and I analyzed. I was expecting the Structural Analysis to stop at that, the structure. _

_Instead, I was shown the complete history of the blade. The steps of the phenomenon were shown to me in lightning fast flashes, from the judgment of the hypothesis of creation to excelling each manufacturing process, and I just barely managed to stop myself from accidentally Projecting a copy of it. I _understood _it._

_And, scarily enough, it_ understood_ me._

_I slowly set the sword at my hip, keeping one hand on the saya, while my other strayed to the tsuka. I gripped the handle hard, just like the Third wielder, a man whose name cracked through my mind so fast I couldn't memorize it. All I could get out of the Sixth wielder was the drawing of the sword at lightning speed. The Fifteenth taught me only how to control the flick of my wrist so I could instantly return to a standing waza position, while the Twenty-second gave me the knowledge to defend against an incoming attack by batting it aside and getting inside an opponent's guard._

_I achieved the drawing and striking of the sword at once. My stance shifted to the favored position of the Eleventh nameless swordsman. I pulled, allowing the blade to awaken from its slumber at lightning speed. The tip of Shisui barely cleared the saya before I snapped my wrist and arm out in an arc, creating an eight foot diameter of steely death. Raiga absently jumped out of the way, studying my face intently, but I was too focused on the next maneuver to see the calculative gleam in his eyes._

_The next move was simple, a downward slash that led into a vicious stab. Before I could get into the fourth attack, however, Raiga stopped Shisui with a hand, his fingers tightly clamped on the spine._

"_It seems you've learned quite a lot from Shisui, haven't you?" he asked. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Taiga standing in the doorway, a look of shock on her face. "Yes, I see that you could learn more than I ever will from it."_

"_Does that mean I can keep Shisui, sir?" I asked. Raiga laughed and ruffled my hair. I was still unnaturally tall, even at fifteen, but Raiga was so intimidating even without trying that he made me feel a good five years younger._

"_If I could, I would most certainly pass that sword down to you right now," he admitted. "However, I am merely keeping it safe for a friend of mine for the time being. I'm sure that if she returns here, you may ask her and show her what you can glean from Shisui."_

* * *

That was the last experience I'd had with the Aoyama blade, and to be frank, I'd thought the information had been lost to me over the years. When I looked back for its history, however, I found all fifty one of its wielders staring back at me, recording their accomplishments in my brain. It was that information that allowed me to pull Shisui from its saya and ready it in a standard kendo position.

The last three wielders, Motoko, Setsuna and Tsukuyomi, were arguably the most dangerous people to have held Shisui, and it was their teachings I gripped the most as I slowly advanced towards Gillian. Motoko had gone on to become the third most skilled with the sword, only surpassed by the First and Eighteenth wielders, while Setsuna and Tsukuyomi had encountered magic unlike anything I'd seen before. It wasn't the classic brand of Thaumaturgy that I'd come to expect from Magi, but they both knew and learned from people who, had they gone just a little farther with their abilities, would probably have been considered the Sixth and Seventh True Magic wielders, since converting one's own soul into attack power and the use of an artificial and everlasting prana source would require someone to reach the Root of Akasha, the origin of all knowledge.

That foreign energy protecting Gillian was so close to prana it probably would have fueled Thaumaturgy. It didn't matter, because Shisui slid right through it, its storied blade imbued with sharpness that even my Reinforcement couldn't replicate, and landed a nick on his ribs. Gillian looked down, surprised that the attack had actually connected, but his face hardened into a mask an instant later and he swung, intending to break the flimsy-looking form of Shisui under his unnaturally sharp sword.

I shifted my grip and allowed Shisui to fall out of my hands, but the second I did I summoned another copy of it and slid the edge along Gillian's sword, resting the blade at his neck. At the same time, I felt the very tip of his sword jutting against the soft flesh between my ribs. If he'd gone an inch further, the blade would have sliced far enough to pierce my heart, and even though Avalon could and would heal it, it would take far longer than most organs, mainly due to the heart's complex structure. I exhaled, allowing my torso to shrink away from Gillian's sword.

"Draw," he grunted. I nodded, and we both took our weapons away. Gillian sheathed his sword, while all of the blades I'd launched, as well as the two Shisui copies, disintegrated in what was rapidly becoming a familiar sight. If Gillian was surprised at my ability, he didn't show it, and sat down on the scarred earth.

"I'm honestly impressed," he admitted. "You managed to keep up with me at ten percent, and if I'm correct, you'd be able to handle me all the way up to twenty-five. Keep training like that, and-"

"Forty," I interrupted.

"Pardon?"

"I have more destructive techniques," I said, "but they aren't very suited for use during the night or anywhere within a square mile of our location. I could probably match you at forty percent right now."

I could have sworn Gillian's face paled just a tinge at the notion of me having techniques that could affect several miles' worth of land, but under the cover of darkness it was hard to tell. I sat down beside him, resting my back on a three-foot lump of dirt and rock that I'd accidentally thrown up when Kanshou exploded. I considered Projecting a lighter or a flashlight so that I'd be able to see, but Reinforcing my eyes worked just as well, and I had to convince myself all over again that I wasn't running out of prana thanks to Jaune's ridiculous number of Circuits.

"What kind of ability was that, with you creating all those swords?" Gillian asked. "Have you already discovered your Semblance?"

I frowned. "A Semblance?" I asked. I was loathe to reveal my ignorance of this world's mechanics, but I quite frankly needed to know them, and if I was going to trust anyone it might as well be the person I would have to call father for the rest of my life.

"I didn't know you'd been training with a power you didn't even know about," Gillian began, "but I suppose I should have expected it. Arcs are always full of surprises after all." I was about to speak, but Gillian continued on with his explanation and I shut my mouth, eager to figure out how both of these worlds' mechanics fit into one another. "A Semblance is the unique manifestation of one's soul. It's a special attribute that is bestowed upon a person based on the qualities or abilities that define them. Mine, for example, is known as Fortress."

"Because you're unstoppable and stubborn as a mule when it comes from protecting others," I theorized. Gillian's face brightened.

"Yes, that's exactly it!" he said. "Usually, a Semblance will drain a person's Aura reserves faster than if they'd just used it in battle as a uniform reinforcer."

"Aura?" I asked. I was starting to piece things together. From what Gillian had said, Semblances sounded like internalized Reality Marbles, or at the very least, the qualities of a Reality Marble that a person could impose on their own existence. This Aura thing that powered it must have a correlation to prana, then.

Gillian blinked and looked at me in mild shock. "Jaune, I get not knowing about Semblances, since it's not something Huntsmen usually reveal to other people without explicit trust, but you've heard about Aura since you could walk. What's with the sudden amnesia?" I blinked, my expression blank, and he sighed. "Alright, I'll run it down for you the proper way this time. Aura is inside of us, a representation of what we feel and how we see the world. You could call it a manifestation of our souls. It's the energy that allows us to empower our attacks, and heal our wounds once we've been injured."

"I see." I rubbed the back of my head. This Aura sounded like an amalgamation of Avalon's regeneration effect and Reinforcement, although it was clearly in a category of its own if each person had a unique Aura. In fact, the Aura must have been the white glow that prevented me from Reinforcing past my limit. It made sense, in a confusing way; the soul naturally wishes to avoid harm to its vessel, so it channeled the energy to counteract the effects of over-Reinforcement by simply tamping down the Reinforcement in the first place. It would undoubtedly be interesting to see how Aura was affected by things like the Origin Bullets my father used, but I wouldn't dare try to pull that on anyone, especially if Aura had a direct correlation with life force.

comparing Reality Marbles to Aura now that I had information on it, though, was a much more startling prospect. The people of this world obviously had an intimate understanding of the individual soul, or at least, the Huntsmen and Huntresses did. If they ever managed to access their Magic Circuits (if they even _had_ Magic Circuits; I was the only person I'd been able to Structurally Analyze so far) it would only take a small bit of personal understanding about their souls and they could easily develop their own Reality Marble.

That... kind of made me feel inferior, actually. Sure, my existence was Distorted, and I was already used to being called a failure of a Magus, but developing a Reality Marble was one hell of an accomplishment. I was one of only a handful to ever have achieved such a thing, and realizing that anyone on this would had the potential to do it just made it less important.

"Have you had your Aura activated yet, Jaune?" Gillian asked. "I saw that glow around your arms when we were fighting."

"No, I haven't," I said. "And right now, I'd rather just go on with what I have. I'll seek it on my own time."

Gillian blinked, then shook his head in a sort of amused exasperation. "You're just like me when I was younger. I wanted to save everyone as well." He stood. "But Jaune, try to remember that you can't. You can't save everyone. Sometimes it's just better to retreat. If you get killed, then the people you're protecting will get killed as well. It's better to live and protect more people than to die with the ones under your wing. When you find yourself in a situation you can't win, just run."

I was suddenly glad it was dark, because I vehemently shook my head and clenched my fists. I _couldn't_ do that. I would protect everyone that I could, even if I'd die in the process.

It was to be expected from someone so Distorted. Other people came first. They always came first, no matter what.

I followed Gillian back to the house, my thoughts on what it really meant to be a Huntsman, and if that was what I was going to be.

* * *

Throughout the week, the few cuts I'd received during the spar had healed over completely, thanks to Avalon. When I looked in the mirror, a thin scar bridged my nose, but that was it. I brushed down my hair with a hand while I started on breakfast. I decided to go for a Western breakfast this time, since Japanese seemed so out of place.

After breakfast was finished, I ate quickly, before Gillian and Jeanne were awake, and laid their plates out for them. After that, I focused on my most pressing task: getting this body into shape.

It was painfully obvious that Jaune wasn't very fit. Sure, he wasn't fat, but I attributed that more to an active metabolism than anything else. I stripped off my shirt and started on a light jog around the "backyard" of the house.

My body was tiring after only a half-mile of jogging, but I Reinforced my muscles slightly and continued. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then thirty. I stopped at forty, because even with Reinforcement my legs were trembling. I dropped into a pushup position and started on the static exercises. Another half hour found me pleasantly sore and Tracing Shisui, ready to begin the training katas.

"May I interfere for a moment?" I heard a smooth, wizened voice ask. I turned, hand still on Shisui's tsuka. An older man, maybe forty five years old, was leaning lightly on a cane. He had floppy grey hair that tangled over his head and flecked-brown eyes. A green turtleneck hid most of his skin from view, but his hands were almost as pale as I was.

"Hello, sir. How may I help you today?" I asked warily. This guy was strong. He didn't even try to hide it, a testament to his sheer strength and force of presence. It took me most of my willpower to just keep calm, let alone take a position and fight him.

"Peace, Jaune," the man said, raising a hand as though to stop an incoming blow. With an effort I hadn't known since encountering Kotomine Kirei for the last time, I forced my hand off Shisui's grip and against my side. Satisfied, the man continued. "You may not remember me. The last time I was here was when you were eight, after all. I am Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon Academy."

My blank stare continued even longer, and he twitched. "Seriously? You don't even recall me a bit?" His voice was almost... whiny.

"I'm sorry, sir," I began, "but I don't remember any name like Ozpin. If there is nothing else, then I'd like to get back to training."

"Wait."

I stopped again, this time with the slightest hints of irritation in my mind and posture. He walked closer. "If you could escort me to your parents' house, I'd be quite grateful," he said. "I have a few things that I must discuss with them."

I ran through a few hypothetical situations in my head, preparing for the worst while I tried to keep my body relaxed (or as relaxed as it could be under this man's oppressive atmosphere). I nodded shortly and started towards the house that almost seemed like a speck a few miles in the distance. Ozpin's footsteps, along with the slight tapping of his cane, followed me all the way there.

We stopped outside of the front door. I prayed that it would be Gillian to answer the door, since Jeanne hadn't seen Shisui yet and I couldn't exactly reveal one of my greatest strengths to a potential enemy.

To my utter relief, Gillian _was_ the one who opened the door. He took a long at me and gave an approving nod, then turned his eyes to Ozpin. "Ah, Emmanuel!" he exclaimed, grabbing the smaller man in a bear hug. I could almost hear the cracks in Ozpin's spine. "How wonderful to see you again. Jeanne's just made some coffee. Wonderful breakfast, by the way, Jaune. Very hearty."

I smiled slightly. It seemed Ozpin wasn't as much of an enemy as I first thought, but he still felt unnaturally powerful, and if the Grail War had taught me one thing, it was that powerful people have an ambitious agenda.

Jeanne looked at me sharply when she saw me. "Jaune, why didn't you tell us you were going outside?" she asked. Gillian surreptitiously pulled Shisui from my side and threw it in a nearby closet. I didn't bother dispelling it; it would fall apart in a few hours anyway.

"Sorry, mom," I said. "I was out training, and I didn't want to bother you, so I thought I'd stay a bit longer and practice some sword forms."

"Sword forms?" She looked confused. "Where did you get a sword?"

Ozpin seemed to catch onto our act and quickly interrupted. "It was a wooden sword, Jeanne. He seems to have a good amount of talent with a longsword." I could see the gears turning in his head. He hadn't seen what exactly happened to Shisui, but he was still suspicious of Gillian and I.

"Alright," Jeanne acquiesced. "Just be careful out there, okay? your sisters already give me heart attacks whenever they go out on missions, I don't need you to add to the list."

I nodded, and her cheerful mood resurfaced. Ozpin and I took a seat at the table. "What did you want to discuss, Emmanuel?" Gillian asked.

Ozpin steepled his fingers just like Jeanne had done the day before. It was a hauntingly familiar gesture, and with a start, I realized it was the same posture that both Rin and Kotomine had taken whenever they were explaining something crucial. It seems like powerful people had more in common than I thought.

"Two things. The start of spring semester at Beacon has left me with two open teaching positions," he began. "Unfortunately, Professors Dumpty and Stilts have both had serious accidents involving Grimm infestations."

"I'd rather not have to move to the city right now," Gillian said. "Not with all the Faunus bombings. The White Fang is too disorganized and chaotic at the moment."

The White Fang? What was that? Some sort of terrorist organization? Whatever it was, if it was capable of giving the Arcs pause, then it would be best to wait and observe unless they actively started killing people. _That _would require interference.

I tuned back into the conversation when Jeanne began to speak.

"That's that Ozpin," she snapped. "Enough trying to convince us otherwise. It's not going to happen." Her tone was cold and sharp, like a bottle of saké that had been left in an icebox.

Ozpin raised his hands in surrender. "No need to get so defensive, Jeanne. I just wanted to be sure that there wasn't a chance of you changing your mind before I got to my second order of business. This concerns you, Jaune, so you might want to pay attention."

I sat up straighter, trying to judge Ozpin's proposal before he gave it. Would it be a position at a school? Maybe some sort of early mission that he wanted me to take?

I discarded those options after a quick thought. The schooling idea didn't make any sense, since Jaune seemed to have average intelligence at best and practically no aptitude for fighting. Neither did the mission, for many of the same reasons.

Ozpin breathed deeply into his hands. "Jaune," he began. "I have charge of a group of younger kids right now, and a mission came up yesterday that I can't ignore. Could you babysit for a few days?"

* * *

**Character Stat Sheet**

**Emiya Shirou**

**Master- none**

**Class- none (Saber)**

**Race- Human (Sword)**

**Statistics (Cursed)**

**Strength- D **

**Endurance- D **

**Agility- C **

**Mana- E **

**Luck- E**

**Reality Marble- Unlimited Blade Works**

Shirou's Origin and Affinity are both of swords, giving him an extreme specialization that allows him to perform sword-related thaumaturgy on a level unparalleled by other Magi. His very soul is infused with the essence of swords, and his Reality Marble reflects that. Unlimited Blade Works is akin to a factory of swords, able to analyze, store and reproduce every sword Shirou has ever seen at the cost of prana. Any Noble Phantasm created by Unlimited Blade Works is ranked down by one, although this effect is negated for Noble Phantasms he has seen and used intimately. Currently, the only examples of this are the Married Swords: Kanshou and Bakuya.

_**Personal Skills**_

**Unbridled Heroism- B**

As a child, Shirou's dream was to become an Ally of Justice, a person who helps anyone in need, regardless of consequences. His heroic behavior, combined with his actions during the Fifth Holy Grail War, has granted him the title of "Honorary Hero". While in battle against another Hero or potential Hero, this skill grants a one rank increase in Luck.

**Magic Resistance- C**

Shirou faced off against many Magi in his lifetime, including the Caster-Class Heroic Spirit named Medea. This experience and the knowledge granted to him by merging with Archer allows Shirou to defend against some forms of magical attack. Any magical attacks D rank or below are nullified, and magical attacks of C rank are halved. Note that Servant-level magical attacks are of a far higher scale, and on a human such as Shirou, they will affect him fully.

**Love of Swords- A**

Shirou's unique Origin of Swords allows him to develop an intimate understanding of any sword he looks at. Those few swords with a degree of sentience are almost always favorable towards him. Any damage received from an attack by a sword is slightly nullified, and when using a sword, Agility and Strength are guaranteed to receive a boost, depending on the level of the sword.

**Obsession- B**

Shirou has only two goals in life: to save as many lives as possible, and to return to Saber's side. Prevents mental distraction and forced infatuation, but rank C and higher will Distort the individual's sense of self.

**Will of a Penniless Swordsman- C**

As a swordsman of an adequate caliber and a manufacturer of swords, Shirou has a deep understanding of a sword's function and can replicate that function. In his hands, any straight object that is a non-sword becomes a rank E Noble Phantasm of the same strength as a normal sword and no additional effects.

**Eye of the Mind (True)- D**

Despite Shirou's relative inexperience when it comes to combat, he has the determination and instinct to have fought in multiple battles against Servants. His body has adapted to expect their movements, and thus can predict some of his enemies' attacks by analyzing their movements. Has a 25% boost in dodging or blocking a strike from a character with D rank Agility or below. Has a 10% boost in dodging or blocking attacks from characters with C rank Agility

**Archery- B**

Even before his legend began in the Grail War, Shirou was renowned by his peers as a remarkable archer, capable of matching several Archers even with the Grail's enhancement. It is this skill that allowed Counter Guardian EMIYA to be summoned as an Archer. Shirou can effortlessly use any normal bow, and all Noble Phantasm bows up to C rank. Excluding Counter Guardian EMIYA's weapon, B rank bows and higher require a great deal of practice to utilize, but Shirou is still a pinpoint marksman with them.

**Curse of the Dweeb- A**

After his soul was separated from his body by Gilgamesh and Avalon, Shirou came to inhabit Jaune Arc's body. Jaune's status as an eternal loser lowers Shirou's parameters by two ranks initially and blocks all knowledge of his Noble Phantasms. This curse degrades over time before dissipating when Shirou once again reaches age seventeen. When this curse dissipates, Shirou gains full control over his new Circuits, the aforementioned stat drops are neutralized, and his Mana stat increases to B rank.

**Adaptation to an Unfamiliar world- EX**

Shirou's newfound body is placed into an unfamiliar world with different rules to his own. He eventually grows to adapt to this situation, and where the mind goes, the body eventually follows. This skill becomes active when Curse of the Dweeb dissipates. Aura is converted to od, and all Magical skills, such as Magic Resistance, apply to Aura and Dust as well.

**A Failure's Unexpected Reversal- D/A+**

Shirou is recognized almost universally as a failure of a Magus in his old world. Since he inherits Jaune's Magic Circuits, he becomes an unexpectedly good Magus of his specialty. Any character with previous knowledge of Shirou automatically receives a small downgrade in all parameters upon their first conflict with Shirou, and upon reaching rank B one full rank down is applied to exceedingly arrogant characters, such as Lorelei Barthomeloi and Gilgamesh.

**Overcoming the Impossible- ?**

Gilgamesh is trapped inside of Shirou's Avalon, courtesy of the Legend of King Arthur. Eventually Gilgamesh will submit. When this skill is unlocked after Gilgamesh's ultimate defeat, Shirou will gain an extra Noble Phantasm in addition to a permanent rank up to all parameters.

**Guardian Knight- C**

Shirou dreams of one day protecting everyone he can, no matter who it is. The events of the Grail War and the Fuyuki Fire have only helped to solidify that goal, to the point where he only finds self-worth through assisting others. Grants a one rank boost to all physical attributes while acting in the defense of a weak bystander's life.

_**Noble Phantasms**_

**Excalibur: The Sword of Promised Victory- A (LOCKED)**

The Sword of Promised Victory was given to Arturia Pendragon upon her encounter with the Lady of the Lake in legend. In reality, the sword is a crystallization of the world's hopes, crafted by the Fae in an attempt to balance Britain through Arturia. This sword is ancient, and after fighting with Saber for so long, Excalibur and its partner Avalon have recognized Shirou as an ally and a worthy wielder. It will never be as powerful in his hands as it was in Arturia's but the power of this weapon can still only be rivalled by rank A or EX Noble Phantasms.

**Knight of the Round Table: The Right Hand of the Chosen King- A (LOCKED)**

As Shirou fought with Saber in the Fifth Grail War, Saber came to recognize him as a trusted ally and a precious person. Upon this realization, Shirou was inducted into the Knights of the Round Table, the first since Arturia's contract with Alaya. As such, he can call on the aid of all of the other Knights at any time. Each one of the Knights is powerful, but they draw directly from his prana supply, and they are still only a shadow of the legends they were during life. Arturia, unfortunately, is the only Knight he cannot call upon, due to her spirit not fully residing within the Throne of Heroes.

**The Holy Grail: Remnant of a Hideous War- EX (LOCKED)**

The Holy Grail War was the beginning and ending of Shirou's legend. His willpower and strength was imprinted upon several generations of Magi, and he was later known as the "Grail Killer" and the "Wrought Iron Magus", son of the Magus Killer. Since Shirou's legend is so rooted within the Grail War, he has the ability to call upon the Holy Grail in times of utmost need. This incarnation of the Grail, freed from Angra Mainyu's corruptive influence, can grant any single wish that the spirit inside the Grail deems appropriate. This is a one-use Noble Phantasm, although if enough prana is poured into it to be Broken, two wishes can be granted.

* * *

**Like I said up top, the stat sheet will be Shirou's estimated ability for the majority of the story. It will progress to his full stat sheet eventually, but for now this is all you get. Sorry!**

**Before I get to reviews, there's something I want to say to all of you: You are all amazing. Seriously, this fic only has two chapters online as of me writing this line, and I've already gotten more than 3000 views and just under 2000 visitors. Add to that 25 reviews, almost 150 favorites and more than 100 follows? You are all seriously incredible. Thanks so much for deciding to stick with me, and I hope I won't disappoint.**

**Anyway, onto reviews:**

**Rakaan: I don't know exactly why I wrote this either, but it seems to fit Shirou's pattern of making stupid mistakes. After all, our hero isn't exactly the most intelligent person on the planet (did you know that people die when they are killed? Crazy, right?).**

**Sceonn: For this I delved into some fanon that I've found in a smattering of other fics. Shirou's soul is the thing that's transferred, and we know from canon that Magic Circuits are essentially a bridge between the soul and the body, so I figured that Shirou's Circuits would, like the body's tendency to heal itself, heal themselves as well. They simply regenerated from the base imprints on his soul and the imprints that Jaune's soul left on his body. He _can_ use Aura, but I'll cover that a few more chapters from now. Suffice to say, it won't be pretty. And as for Jaune, I might have made something unclear. Jaune wasn't expunged, but he wasn't absorbed either; he was _consumed_. Just like a steak would be broken down once you decided to consume it, so too would souls. This is the process of Incarnation: not the replacement of a soul into a new body, but rather the soul obtaining the body they are to inhabit next, through any means necessary. There isn't anything left of Jaune in that body, save for the general physiology and the Magic Circuits.**

**Shadlith: Sorry to say, but this Shirou is from a self-developed route. Things will have happened that are a combination of all three routes and a few cameos from characters outside the Fate/ series. This is mostly my fault, since I don't really have the time to play through the VN right now to get a refresher and I don't remember everything about the separate routes. Also, Shirou will be paired with someone in this story, if only to try and emulate the speedy progression of an event further in the story. Sorry again, but it's not Ruby. It _is_, however, someone that we've seen in canon. And don't you worry, several characters from the series will be showing up, two especially. **

**The Bag of Holding: I'm glad we got that misunderstanding cleared up. Archer can't Trace Excalibur, though: like Shirou from the first chapter, he can only Trace an image of an image, a vastly inferior version of Excalibur to the point that it can barely even be called the same weapon. It has power, sure, but it can't destroy a dozen city blocks in one swing like the real Excalibur can.**

**Guest: Thank you for your review. I recognize that I got a lot of Nasuverse mechanics wrong, and I won't fault you for pointing it out. I actually plan on rewriting part of the first chapter to fit the mechanics better. However, I will argue with you on two points: namely on the terms of weapon deployment and copying skills. I did mention that Shirou couldn't keep up with Gilgamesh in any way except for weapon deployment, and on Gilgamesh's side, I really do apologize for my portrayal of the Gate of Babylon. However, we've seen that it _is_ possible to at least copy skills. I'll point to Shirou's battle with Berserker in Heaven's Feel. Shirou copies Berserker's strength with Nine Lives Blade Works when the raw power comes from Berserker's body, not his weapon. Lancer's speed was actually a typo that I never changed from my original draft; in the version I posted here, the inherited speed was supposed to be imposed by Gae Bolg, just like Shirou gaining immense strength by using Nine Lives. I'll admit, Weak Constitution was complete bullshit, and I've rewritten that part completely. Seriously, thanks for the review. It was much more enlightening than parts of the wiki were, and it helped me really get back into looking over the mechanics of the Nasuverse more clearly.**

**lukefang: I'm... not really sure what you're trying to tell me here. Half of your comment is unintelligible gibberish, and the other half seems to be intent on convincing me to rewrite the entire story to place Jaune as the main character, not Shirou. Sorry pal, but I can't do that. As for keeping Jaune's clothes and personality... well, he was consumed by Shirou's Incarnation process, and the clothes will stay for a few more chapters. Besides, if you want something to remember Monty by, you probably shouldn't be looking in the crossover section. Check the vanilla RWBY page if you want some good Jaune fics.**

**Now, one last thing before I end this. If you haven't read _Fate Recondite_ by Ravoleck, I suggest you do so immediately. This guy is better than me by a long shot. Seriously, it's already in my top five list of fics on this site and it's only five chapters long. **


	4. Child's Play

**Alright, welcome back to Remnant of Cursed Paradise! Nothing new for now, so let's get right onto the story!**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Child's Play**

The airship lurched in the air, and I once more jag to suppress colorful collection of swears that would have filled Taiga with both horror and pride. Jaune suffered from chronic air sickness.

Just my measly E ranked Luck.

I'd accepted the job from Ozpin in a heartbeat, for several reasons. First and foremost, it gave me easy access to a library, where I'd be able to learn anything that was strictly necessary. Unlimited Blade Works didn't give my Structural Analysis the ability to dissect the information inside of a book, but it did boost my memorization skills by a wide margin.

Remembering more than a thousand Noble Phantasms and at least five times as many regular weapons was a tricky thing without magic, after all.

The second reason was actually more simple than the first. After teaming up with Ilya at the end of the War, I found that I enjoyed dealing with kids. Rin called it me being "too good" of a person, but I honestly found some good in dealing with children. With kids, you didn't have to deal with anything like Servants or Masters or a stupid Grail War. It was just keeping them occupied, letting themselves tire out and fall asleep in the right intervals, and feeding them. The first would be easy enough, the second they'd do themselves, and I'd already tested the third of Ilya.

Finally, mercifully, the airship made its final descent onto a dock that jutted out of the side of a cliff face. I glanced out the window. A green field, ripe with grass and trees, stood at the top of the plateau, while a single white building stood at the center of a glade.

Calling it a building wasn't really accurate. I thought of it more as a small castle. The architecture was rife with sweeping arches and fragile filigrees, complementing the solid marble the building seemed to be made of. A single statue stood vigil in front of the apparent orphanage, its roughly-hewn features glaring down at me. A sword was clasped in its right hand, a shield in its left. Strangely enough, they looked very similar to the weapons that Gillian was wielding.

I disembarked, resisting the urge to kiss the ground in relief, and set off on the dirt path towards the orphanage. It was only a half-mile to the building, but with the beautiful scenery of varying greens and blues, I found myself stopping at least three times just to admire the view. Japan had its charms, with its tranquil cities and mirror-smooth lakes, but some things just couldn't beat a peaceful forest on a calm summer day.

A dark-haired, flat-cheeked woman was standing next to the door to the orphanage. Surprisingly, the garb of nuns both here and back home was similar; the only difference between the two that I could see was the lack of a cross pendant around this woman's neck and the small dagger that was tied by a cord to her waist. She was fairly young, maybe twice my old age, but her demeanor was as calm and graceful as an old woman's when she greeted me.

"Welcome," she said in a voice that was far and away the most dreamlike and distant I'd ever heard. "This is the Lumen Orphan's Home. I assume you are the stand-in that Professor Ozpin mentioned?"

I nodded and extended a hand. "Shi- ah, sorry. Jaune Arc, it's a pleasure to meet you." I stumbled over Jaune's name, since it was the first time I'd ever introduced myself as such. The woman wasn't perturbed in the slightest. I noticed as she shook my hand and ushered me in that her eyes were a dark gold shade, like an autumn leaf, and they were focused on a point far over my shoulder. For some unknown reason, I didn't quite want to know what she was looking at.

The inside of the orphanage was sparse, far less opulent than the outside. a single hall led in three directions. Two doors split off to my left and right, while a single massive door stood in front of me. It split open as if on command, revealing a huge room about the size of a school cafeteria. It was empty of life at the moment, but the tables and chairs indicated it was well used. Several other priests and nuns were milling about, whether it was clearing tables, sweeping floors, studying books, or just general movement.

"You just missed the children," the nun told me. "They're currently in their dormitories, preparing for their day out."

"Day out?" I asked. The name was self-explanatory, but I wanted a bit of confirmation before going along with this whole endeavor.

The nun nodded and led me to a table, where we both took a seat. "Yes, a day out. Once every week or so, the kids get a chance to stretch their legs in the city. Marte isn't far from here, and since it's within the borders of Vale, the Grimm don't even try to go through there. It's where we usually take them, although we have been to Vale once or twice."

"Where do I fit in with all this?"

"We don't actually know that for sure," the nun admitted with just a shade of pink dusting her cheeks. "It's sort of up to you to decide. You could work as a chaperone for some of the children, although the only group left unclaimed is the bunch of "problem children" that have been here since their town was destroyed."

My eyes narrowed at the mention of problem children. If there was one thing I was good at, it was dealing with problems. "Tell me more about them. What are their names, what are they doing that's so problematic?" I ran off a few more questions, but the nun seemed happy to answer.

"There are three. The leader is a black-haired boy named Martin Warner. His sister, Tabitha Warner and their friend Terrence Greenperch make up the trio. There are a few other children that stick around them, but they cause most of the trouble around here. They have a particular knack for vandalising the orphanage, although they like getting into fights and using the most foul language."

In my head, I smirked slightly. What these kids knew about language probably had nothing on what Taiga would spew during one of her drunken rants. Other than that, I recognized the other incidents as classic rough-and-tumble bully behavior, noting that couldn't be fixed with a stern talking-to and a few demonstrations of how life really worked. Thank whatever gods that existed that they weren't anything like Shinji. If that were the case, I'd find myself wanting to refuse the request right then and there.

"I'll take them," I said. The nun visibly brightened, and a delighted smile crossed her face for a good few seconds.

"Oh, that's wonderful," she crowed. "Nobody else will take them, you know. They say that they're a hopeless bunch, but we can't turn them away until they're eighteen or adopted. I'm the only person that chaperones them out in the city, but I have too many chores around the building to do so today. Are you sure you wouldn't mind taking them?"

I shook my head. "It would be my pleasure," I said honestly. The nun beamed one more time before she was bustled out of the hall by one of the passing priests, the two of them speaking rapidly about something involving a chapel and an energy drink.

I followed a few priests that were filing outside. In addition to the airship I'd landed in that was parked in the distance, an additional three more were lined up against the cliff face. The priests each took a spot at one of the airships, leaving me with the one I'd traveled in. As I approached, the pilot stuck his head out the passenger window.

"You gonna be alright, Arc?" he asked. The prospect of getting back on the airship made my stomach clench, but I managed to nod before I could involuntarily spasm. He gave me a grateful look (probably for not puking all over his leather seats) and turned back to the controls. I could see his hands flying at a disturbingly fast pace as he checked the pre-flight list. I perched myself on a wing, allowing my body to slump forward slightly as I waited.

The kids filed out one by one. Their ages ranged anywhere from seven to thirteen, with the majority being around eleven. Most of them had excited gleams in their eyes, but I noted the sparse few that looked utterly and completely bored with the situation. Most of them ended up in front of my airship. They loaded up at once, crowding the doors instead of filing in like the other kids. I suppressed an eye roll and followed them in.

"Alright, let's see," I muttered, taking a look at a list of names a passing nun had given me. "Martin Warner," my eyes flicked to a swarthy black-haired kid with a sharp chin. The girl next to him seemed meeker and definitely younger, almost a half foot smaller than he was, but she too had that spark of rebellion in her eyes. "You're Tabitha, and I'm assuming you're Terrence." I tilted my head towards a dark-skinned boy with a small nose and shockingly green eyes.

"It's Terry," he snapped.

"Terry, then," I agreed. He almost recoiled. He seemed surprised that I had called him by his preferred name. No doubt the monastics, in their need for properness, refused to call by it. I took my seat, gave the pilot a thumbs-up, and popped two sickness pills. Gillian had given them to me before the flight, and I hadn't known I'd needed them until I couldn't move and it was too late.

"What are you doing, leading us around?" Martin asked me harshly. Some of the other kids murmured in assent. I wasn't surprised. Martin was easily the oldest kid there at thirteen, and he was also the most assertive. His sister glared at me from slightly to his left, but she was silent. "You're barely older than the rest of us," he continued.

"Professor Ozpin of Beacon Academy was originally supposed to watch you," I started, "but he had a mission to take. He was on a visit to my house at the time, so I got drafted in his place." Step one of gaining a delinquent's trust: act casual and distant, maybe even a bit frosty at times.

that strategy didn't work on Martin, who only glared harder. A cocky smirk slowly played onto his face.

"Well..." he said, looking around as if someone was going to try and stop him from what he would do next. "Well, I think you're just a load of hot air."

"Hmm?" I tried to act like I hadn't heard him, but he was definitely catching my interest with his pomp.

"Yeah," Martin sneered. "I bet you're weaker than we are. Hell, I could probably take on that old man and beat him with a hand tied behind my back!" Some of the older kids nodded along with his declaration, sinister smiles working onto their faces as well, while the few young children gasped at his language. Tabitha seemed to be the sensible one of the two, as she alternated between glaring harder at me and looking worried for her brother.

He went on with his boasting, talking about how he could probably kill all the Grimm by himself with his bare hands. At the words, even the older kids recoiled, and it occurred to me that these were most likely orphaned by Grimm. My eyes narrowed. Martin was going too far.

"Trace On," I whispered. Two Magic Circuits opened under my watchful presence, and an instant later, a half-dozen swords shot out of the air and impaled the steel behind Martin. I made sure to avoid cutting or scuffing the leather he was sitting on. One went next to each ear, one above his head, one in front of each foot, and one stabbing just below his groin, missing the seat by millimeters. He stopped mid-rant and yelped, shrinking in on himself. The kids all jumped back and looked at me with a mixture of fear, wariness and anger.

"Listen, Martin," I said. Everyone had gone deathly silent. Even the pilot turned down his radio to listen to what I had to say. "A little boasting once in a while isn't a bad thing; quite the opposite, it can raise morale amongst troops and prevent you from tangling with cowardly backstabbers. But when you talk that way, you bring up bad memories, especially when you do it in front of a group of kids that were orphaned by Grimm."'

Several of the kids flinched again. Only Terrence and Tabitha stayed still. They were both locked on to one of the blades that surrounded Martin. "Try not to bring up the Grimm again, or at least not around these kids," I warned him, allowing the swords to shatter into motes of light.

It was silent for one minute. Then two. The silence spanned for more than three minutes, and then a single whisper of "awesome..." set them off. Everyone was murmuring about how cool my display was, and if I'd teach them to shoot swords like I did. As much as I would like to pass on the secrets of Tracing, I'd save that for any children of my own, if I could even figure out how to create a Magic Crest. I had the bare basics from Structurally Analyzing the Dark Sakura's Crest, but that had been interfered with by All the world's Evils and I wouldn't subject anyone to that kind of torture, especially not the disgusting worms he'd implanted in her.

* * *

An hour later, we landed at the Marte city port. It was cold, colder than it had been at the orphanage. The kids rushed out, most of them screaming and screeching, falling all over each other in their haste to get into the group, surprisingly, were the cooler heads, opting to take their walk slowly and check the stores for anything new rather than just barge through every door they could.

"Alright," I said, rubbing my hands together. "Where are we going first?"

One of the kids piped up. "We usually just go where the Brothers and Sisters tell us to go."

I frowned. No wonder these kids were so rebellious, they were being regulated by the monastics to the point where they barely had any freedom to speak of. No doubt they'd have regulated meal times, free time, even a freaking sleep schedule as well. It almost hurt to see these kids so tamped down.

"Then we'll go with whatever you guys want to see first," I decided. Again, they were surprised, but one of the kids quickly suggested a shopping center on the outskirts of town. His friends agreed, and as one, we herded towards a small square.

The shops were fit snugly into one another, and all the storefronts were brightly painted and displayed various useless, but admittedly cool-looking, trinkets. I left the kids under the supervision of a couple of the older kids, the ones who didn't stick to Martin's every word, and entered an armoury.

Every weapon was well made, from high-quality steel and premium, strong woods. They weren't all pretty; most of them were quite plain, but they'd get the job done. The maker of these weapons automatically went up a notch in my levels of respect. A man, old and bald, stepped up to the counter. "How might I help you today, youngster?" he asked. "You want a weapon? A polearm, or maybe a sword for your size? No... how about an axe?"

"I'm just looking for now, but thanks," I assured him. Several swords caught my eye, but they were already recorded in Unlimited Blade Works by the time I could actively think about their features. Still, it would be good to have a real, physical weapon again. Even Shisui, a sword that had a deep connection to Gaia and could stay materialized in the world for up to a day, would eventually shatter, and a real weapon just didn't do that.

Besides, having an actual sword reminded me that I wasn't just a "Faker".

I pulled a greatsword, about the length of Excalibur and nearly twice as wide, from its rack and placed it on the counter. Ozpin had given me a few spare books when he was at the Arc house, one among them being a small pamphlet on the monetary system. A wordless exchange was made. I'm still fairly sure I gave him too much, but he waved me off when I tried to question him about it. I strapped the sword to my back and stepped outside. Only a few minutes had passed, but most of the kids were already looking bored, Martin Warner chief among them. I brushed off their questions about my new acquisition, telling them "I'd bought it" and not much else when they asked where I'd gotten it.

* * *

The theatre was small, but it was cheap, and it was easy to keep track of all of the kids in the half-lit room. A few commercials played across the screen, all for things I hadn't seen before. Various movies and television shows were highlighted, some of them action, some a cheesy romance, and a few interviews. Then the movie began. I'd made sure to choose something that didn't have much to do with Grimm, or at least something anyone would enjoy. It was a mindless action-fest, but it seemed to sate all of the children.

All, that is, except two.

Martin Warner and his sister Tabitha were whispering next to me throughout the entire movie, talking about something or other that I couldn't quite make out. I would have Reinforced my ears, but eavesdropping wasn't something I did in good conscience. Besides, whatever it was, it seemed to make the two happier than they were during the airship ride.

We reached a point in the movie where the action lulled slightly, and they glanced over at me. I pretended to be into the movie, not knowing half the terms they threw out but memorizing them just in case they proved useful. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Warners' two dark forms rise and silently glide through the seats and out the door. That put me in a predicament. I had two options, but both of them would require me leaving the other half of the group.

In the end, I spent about thirty seconds deciding before asking one of the older children to watch the group while I went to the bathroom. He was mild, and agreed easily. The moment I walked out the door, I began Structurally Analyzing everything I could, trying to get a feel for the building's recent history.

It took more than two minutes of constant shifting, but I finally managed to track the history of the Warners' footsteps echoing throughout the structures of the floor. I followed those echoes outside just in time to catch a glimpse of two dark-haired children slipping around a corner. I sighed and Reinforced my legs.

Running them down was surprisingly hard, even with my Reinforced body and senses. The two had obviously been working on their stealth in the orphanage, because no matter how many times I caught sight of them, they slipped away easily. They would have made for good Assassins if they'd gotten some actual combat training and about five decades of refining their skills. Martin slipped through alleys and back streets, while Tabitha took to hopping through backyards, her small limbs easily propelling her over obstacles twice her height. I began to wonder if this was the full extent of Aura, or if they were just naturally like that.

I finally cornered them. When they stopped at an alley, I almost charged in, but caught myself just short of doing so. It would be better to see what they were going to do, after all.

For five minutes, they waited. For five minutes, the only sounds I could pick up were the occasional shuffling of a creature within a trash can. I prepared a sword, not as long or strong as Shisui, but easily enough to deal with any thugs I might encounter.

A thin figure- no, calling him thin would be an understatement. He was literally all bone, artery and skin, wearing a shirt that was several sizes too large for him and a pair of baggy jeans held up by no less than three belts. His ratty black hair was tangled and messy, but he still held an air of confidence the kids weren't coming close to matching.

"So it's you brats again," he snapped. I tensed; my instincts, honed by Archer's knowledge and my own spars with Saber and Taiga, screamed at me to dart forward and pierce his heart with a single thrust. "What do you want this time?"

"We're here for more of the medicine," Martin replied. Tabitha nodded sharply, but her demeanor was anything but confident; she was actually hiding behind Martin, behind him and clutching his arm.

The man snorted. "You know the rules, kid," he said. "No money, no meds."

Before he could continue speaking, Tabitha interrupted. "We have money," she said. It was the first time I'd heard her speak, and while she sounded hoarse, her voice was just as well-used and light as any of the other kids. "If you let us in, I'll give it to him. Just... just give us the medicine."

The ruffian's eyes narrowed, as if searching for any traces of a lie. I couldn't see their eyes, so I didn't know if they were telling the truth, but it seemed like it. Finally, the man's expression lightened a bit. He grunted and ushered them inside a door that I hadn't noticed until just then.

After the Warners' entered, the man glared around, and shut the door. I ignored my need to just barge in and snatch them up. Instead, I counted to five, slowly and steadily. After I hit the five second mark, I Traced a carving knife, Reinforced its sharpness, and tiptoed to the door. A small camera was trailing back and forth, but a simple flick of the wrist separated the lens from the circuitry. I brought the carver down on the doorknob, but the steel only managed to dig halfway through the mechanisms before even its inhumanly sharp edge stopped. A stab of irritation lanced through me, and instead of Breaking the carver I tried Reinforcing my own arms to the limit. This time, the cleaver passed clean through the brass doorknob. I punched out the rest of the mechanism and pulled the door open. It creaked with rust, but another punch turned the hinges to a fine red-brown powder. The door came away without a sound after that.

The building was old, but well-cared for. The brick was recently washed, judging by the small streaks of dirt and the traces of dust and sand on the concrete floor. Industrial grade lighting hung by wires that seemed too thin to hold up their bulbs. Three doors were lined up on the sides of the hall, two on the left, one on the right.

The first door I checked was just a small janitor's closet. There were a few small oddities laying around, like a telescope, a few dirty plates and even a small shotgun, but nothing overly important. It was the second door, however, that led to some fruitful results. Another hallway, dimmer than the entrance, snaked through the building.

I walked as quickly as I could while also being silent. Various muffled voices came from the doors on either side of me, laughter and shouting combining into a cacophony that forced me to stop Reinforcing my ears. Nobody left the rooms they were in, which I was grateful for, but it also meant that I had no clue where the Warners went.

Everything went silent. In a split second, the lights shut off, the whispers cut out abruptly, and there was a fist flying towards my face. It was only thanks to the instincts ingrained in me by battling in the Grail War that I managed to dodge it. I twisted at the torso, my feet glued to the floor, and very nearly ripped a muscle bending completely backwards. Whatever Jaune was doing before I consumed his soul made him really flexible.

Nevertheless, I took a page from Lancer's book and Traced a spear. I batted the still-extended hand aside and snapped the end of the shaft upward. The treated wood bent like a vaulter's pole, but the crack I heard when it connected to my assailant's jaw was incredible. My Reinforced eyes could still make out faint outlines in the otherwise pitch darkness. The one I'd just hit landed in a heap on the floor, but two others were advancing, objects that looked suspiciously like knives in their hands.

I released the spear, the glowing prana lighting up the hallway for a few seconds before dimming again. One of the men was tall and lanky, like the bastard at the entrance, while the other looked extremely muscular, but short. I vaunted over the shorter one and extended my leg, hoping to get a hit on the tall one. My knee connected with something weak, and a crunch of something cartilaginous followed by a scream graced my ears. The muscular man's hand brushed past my jeans, but that was as far as he got before I tripped him and bashed his head against the ground, just hard enough to knock him unconscious.

The doors slammed open, pouring sickly yellow light into the hallway. More than a dozen thugs and ruffians, all sizes and shapes, charged me, armed with everything from pipes to guns. I Traced Kanshou and Bakuya. There wasn't any way out of this situation that didn't involve me fighting.

I cracked my back and got into a stance. Archer's style would be useless here. "Come and get me," I spat.

* * *

Martin Warner didn't like that new guy at all. He was too easygoing, too hard to rile up. He didn't listen to what he'd say or reprimand him. He wasn't a conformist, and that was not okay, because Martin was the resident rebel. It was just the way the world worked.

But the Jaune kid was different. He didn't like the way the world worked. He made consequences when Martin did something he "wasn't supposed to". He knew that those stupid kids at the orphanage were deathly afraid of the Grimm, but what did he care? It wasn't his fault if they were scared of a stupid name. Besides, Jaune could have killed him with those swords earlier.

Stupid Jaune, and stupid orphanage. They were all worthless. They wouldn't get any medicine for Tabitha's sickness, just because they said they couldn't afford it. All they told him was that they were sorry and that they had too many mouths to feed. Why didn't they just throw some of the goody-two-shoes kids out on the streets, so they'd have a bit of money? Didn't they know that Tabitha could die?

So, three months into their lives at the orphanage, they started stealing whatever cash they could on their trips to the city. It was hard at first, because they'd had to sneak away from the groups and pose as beggars to get it, but eventually Martin got pretty good at pickpocketing and they raked in more than enough for Tabitha's medicine. They had a healthy stash hidden away in a pot between their beds.

Then came the problem of getting it. Most doctors wouldn't even think of selling them medicine because they were so little, and the ones that did didn't sell the right kinds, only having things like "ecstasy" or "heroin", whatever those were. Even they didn't know how to pronounce the name of Tabitha's medicine, but he'd seen the letters enough times when their parents were still alive to recognize it.

It took almost a year, with Martin just saving up stolen money and Tabitha slowly getting sicker and sicker, before they found a person who would sell them her medication. Martin remembered the first time he'd met the man; he was tall and bulky, and wore an expensive suit and a wide-brimmed hat that hid most of his face with shadows. It was the first time since the Incident that he'd really felt scared of a person. Needless to say, his terms were met: as long as they had the money, they'd get the meds. If not, they'd be forcefully kept out until they could pay.

It went the same way for three more years, each month going exactly the same way. Once, one of the Fathers almost discovered their stash when he borrowed the pot for planting, but otherwise, it was boring.

Until Jaune came and nearly ruined it.

Martin heard the shouting and fighting before he saw it. He and Tabitha were seated in front of the nameless man. He never gave his name, not to anyone. Most of his thugs said it was because his name would make him easier to track, but Martin just thought he was paranoid. The man waved the noises off as a small fight that he would sort out later. "They get into these things a lot," he told them. There was no emotion in his voice. "Never mind them. Do you have the money?"

Martin nodded and pulled a wad of bills from his pocket. He put them on the man's desk and waited patiently. After their third visit, he didn't deign to make any other moves; a gun in his face proved that he was always in danger. The man snatched the pile of cash away from the desk and counted them, once, twice, three times. Finally, he placed the money in a drawer and pulled a bottle out of another.

"Here's the medication," he said, "as promised. I look forward to doing business with you again."

Martin gnashed his teeth as he grabbed the pill bottle. The man knew he'd be coming back. That wasn't a business proposition, it was a reminder that they were essentially slaves to him.

But that didn't matter just then. All that mattered was getting Tabitha back on track.

She was paler than the day before, but not by much. The medication in her system was just beginning to wear off, and he could see her fighting off the urge to cough. The moment the bottle was in her hands, she pulled the top off with expert precision and down two tiny, blue capsules. It would take a while to take effect, but in the end, they were safe for another month and they even had enough leftover money to pay for another month's dosage.

Martin opened the door, took a step outside and called to Tabitha-

-and had to leap back as the same instincts that caused him to shrink away from Jaune and his swords again screamed at him. A flash of silver spasmed across his vision, and then someone started screaming. He looked around. To his left was a man impaled to the wall, swords sticking out of his shirt and forearms. A stream of blood was splattering to the ground and staining the walls a brighter red than any brick should be. He looked to his right, trying not to focus on the blood for too long.

Jaune Arc was standing there, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face. "What are you two doing here?" he asked. Martin sighed, dread filling his stomach like a pool of hot lead.

This day just got a lot more complex.

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**Alright, let's get to reviews!**

**Shadlith: thanks for sticking with me! As for your notes, there's a little bit of a backstory that won't be explained in the main fic. Shirou's Noble Phantasm page doesn't really list his Noble Phantasms, as he's not a true Heroic Spirit. Rather, it seems to me that if he hadn't been Incarnated into Jaune's body, he would have definitely risen into the Throne of Heroes. As it is, it's a little bit of stepping over the line, but they're pretty much just pseudo-Noble Phantasms: Noble Phantasm-like objects that can be wielded by a living being, like the Gate of Babylon to the Incarnated Gilgamesh. Weiss as a turnaround would literally be impossible for me write, but by God would it be hilarious. As for the Grail Phantasm, it's explained later in the story, but revealing it here wouldn't hurt. Using the real Holy Grail as a base, it would be by and large impossible for Shirou to Break his Phantasm. Even with all that prana waiting to be unlocked, it's still only a fraction of what would be needed to fill the Grail beyond capacity. The Remnant of a Hideous War itself is a peculiarity, as it exists outside the bounds of Noble Phantasms and can't be solely tied to Shirou. As such, the single wish that he gets takes prana from whatever is around him at the time, him excluded. In short, it's a suicide wish for anyone within about a mile radius that isn't him, and since the land that _is_ inhabited by humans in Remnant is so dense and packed with people, it would be a literal city-killer. You can be sure he ain't gonna waste that wish.**

**shikyoseinen: The Noble Phantasms all come from his experiences during the Grail War. His stats, similarly, are mostly based off of when he died after the battle with Gilgamesh, but the things like Will of a Penniless Swordsman and his Mana stat are ingrained deeply into Shirou's very nature. As for whether or not he became famous, he probably did. The Grail War was known by pretty much every 'in' Magus in the world, and Shirou completely dismantled that system over the course of one or two weeks. Some people would have thanked him for it, some people would have cursed him, but it wouldn't be all that surprising if Shirou Emiya became a household name for Magi in the years after the War (I personally like the idea of Shirou being a vulgar term for an idiot).**

**Rickyp01: I toyed with this idea as well in the beginning, but I realized that Shirou is already OP by nature, with his Unlimited Blade Works and his Skills. Besides, he never saw Bab-Ilu: Key of the King's Treasure being used by Gilgamesh, so he wouldn't have access to it. On top of that, I feel like Gilgamesh was paranoid enough in life that he set a trap to kill whoever tried opening the Gate of Babylon without his permission, which would really be anybody.**

**RefleR: Nope, Shisui was an exception to the norm. There will only be vanilla Type-Moon swords in here from now on.**

**Treant Balewood: Thanks for enjoying the chapter! I don't really think it's all that farfetched that Shirou has the stats that he does. He's unusually physically capable even for a Magus, and we know that both his Luck and Mana are abysmal. Besides, Ruby would likely have a straight E or D rank on Agility when she's using her Semblance, so this sort of balances his stats out. Sorry if it doesn't make sense. **

**That's all for reviews. As of Tuesday, April 5, 2015, this story has over 200 followers and almost 175 favorites, as well as 5000 visitors and more than 6500 views. You guys are amazing, as always. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next chapter!**


	5. Child's Play part II

**Hey guys! Welcome back to Remnant of Cursed Paradise. There's nothing to go over in the top Author's Note, so let's get right on to the story!**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Child's Play, Part II**

I stepped forward, my eyebrows raised. Martin took a step back. This process was repeated until he was against the wall I'd just nailed my latest attacker to. Tabitha was off to the side, watching me with wide, fearful eyes, a brown bottle clutched tightly in one hand.

"Well?" I asked. "What are you doing here?"

This time, it wasn't a question, more like a demand for information. Martin gulped. He was sweating, shaking too, but I could see him forcing his mouth to work. I realized that the red spear in my hand wasn't helping, and let it shatter.

"C-can we talk about this somewhere else?" I turned. Tabitha looked between her brother and me several times before settling on me. "No more blood, please?"

It wasn't an outright explanation, but it was a promise for more than I already knew and probably the best I was going to get. I nodded wordlessly and beckoned them ahead of me. Martin was all too quick to get away from me, which was both understandable and unsettling. Tabitha was torn between following her sprinting brother and sticking next to me. Eventually, Martin turned a corner and she was stuck with me.

We moved quickly. After a minute of navigating the halls (which went on for at least a mile in some sort of labyrinth- I'm still sure we were underground most of the time), Tabitha got tired, and I had to pick her up to follow Martin. He was younger than me, but he was fast, almost as fast as I was in my old body. Without Reinforcement, of course.

We turned a corner just as he yelled out. I skidded to a stop and dropped Tabitha, then kept on running, pushing more prana into my legs. That first thug I'd knocked upside the head was standing over Martin, bleeding profusely from his mangled jaw and bearing a pipe down on the boy's head.

My new broadsword was in my hand before I knew what I was doing. Of course, once I knew what I was doing, I carried through the motion anyway. the sword and sheath were detached and unsheathed with a flick of my wrist, the sheath coming up to turn the pipe aside while the flat of the blade connected solidly to the man's temple. Another swipe of the sword's sheath sent the unconscious body tumbling back to earth. Martin looked shocked too, but I pulled him away from the body and behind me. I'd already made one mistake, I wasn't going to make another.

Tabitha caught up with us, but before she could see the bloodied head of my latest attacker, Martin dragged her ahead. We made it out to daylight only a few seconds after that, but it felt like hours to me. I expertly returned the sword and sheath to my back, snapping their clips into place.

"Alright, we're out of there," I said. We'll find a cafe and you two are going to tell me just what the hell is going on."

Neither of them said anything, they just sedately followed me as I searched the streets for a place to sit. There was a fenced off area of a small restaurant that was open air and abandoned, so I jumped the fence, beckoned them over, and sat.

"What's the bottle?" I asked.

Tabitha looked down and pulled the glass from her pocket. "It's my medication," she said softly. "I've got some sort of illness, and none of the doctors would sell us anything. That man is the only one who ever deals with us."

Oh. Oh.

Great, the girl was sick. There are some times in my life, current and previous combined, when I think that I just do stupid things from the sheer lack of information. Jumping in front of Berserker's Axe-Sword was one, facing off against Lancer with nothing but a poster tube was another. This was definitely one as well.

"So, to sum things up, you've been buying medication for your mysterious illness from a drug lord, and in my worry over whether or not you were going to die in there, I just ruined any chance you'll ever have on getting anything from him ever again," I said.

Martin nodded, a spark of anger returning to his eyes. "Yeah, so thanks a lot, asshole!" he growled. I sighed.

"you know, I'm starting to think my Luck is E ranked. Who else gets into these kinds of situations?" I waved off their questioning gazes and turned towards Tabitha. "How old do you have to be in this part of Vale to buy medication legally?"

"Fifteen. Why?"

I grinned. "I'm sixteen right now. Do you guys have any money?"

Martin raised a hand, full to bursting with (probably stolen) gold and silver cards, all of them plastic. I could work with that. If there was anything that Rin taught me, it was that money, in large enough quantities, could solve pretty much everything.

I pulled one of the bills and pulled the trigger to the gun in my mind. A single Magic Circuits flickered to life, and I used Structural Analysis.

* * *

The three of us headed towards a small, out of the way pharmacy on the same corner as the theatre the rest of the orphans were still at. I checked the watch Jaune had been wearing before our "assimilation". There was still a half-hour of the movie left.

I ushered the Warners inside, their small feet padding on the carpeted flooring with surprising lightness. Together, the three of us made our way towards the large sign that indicated the medications counter. As we approached, an older woman, probably in her fifties with the beginnings of wrinkles and a noticeable limp brightened.

"How may I help you youngsters today?" she asked. "You have a prescription?"

I smiled blithely. Prana trickled into my eyes, then activated the Magic Circle in my mind and imprinted it onto my eyes. Hypnosis was easy Magecraft, and something even I could do, since it had no Affinity whatsoever. The idea behind was simple: all you had to do was use prana and a Magic Crest or something similar to enforce a Geas upon your target. While I didn't have a Magic Crest, seeing as I was incompatible for Kiritsugu's and had to defer it to Ilya, I'd found a Magic Circle in one of Rin's journals that basically worked just as well for Magecraft unaffiliated with any of the elements. It took a bit of effort at first, since my Origin of Swords kept resisting it, but eventually I was able to control the Circle.

The woman's eyes glazed over as I subjected her to the Geas. It was a simple command, one that convinced her I did indeed have a prescription. Thankfully, I looked sixteen, so there wasn't anything I had to do to convince her that I was old enough to buy. Changing a person's perception of age was hard to do, mostly because most humans had a very tiny degree of Magic Resistance. I had more than most, and if the age change was necessary, I'd need to pump so much prana through the Magic Circle to change her perception of me that both of our eyes would probably burst in their sockets. I handed her a slip of blank paper. She analyzed it, trying to see if whatever she'd convinced herself was there was a fake, and nodded, filing it away in a folder.

"Merves," she called, "bring me that bottle of disopyramide!"

A man about half the woman's age appeared from within the bowels of the filing cabinet-covered room behind her, carrying a blank brown bottle about twice the size of the one in Tabitha's clenched fist. A snap of my gaze and my prana was all that it took for the man to fall under my Geas as well. It became less effective the more I used it and the more people it was placed upon, but two victi- sorry, subjects, wouldn't hamper its performance. He wordlessly handed me the bottle, which I passed off to Tabitha, and left my sight again. The Geas on him would break in about two hours, but he'd still believe that Tabitha had actually been prescribed the medicine.

I took the money from Martin and placed it on the counter, then turned on my heel and left. The Warners followed me, confused.

Before the woman could call out another word, we were already out the door and striding briskly towards the theatre. Martin was the first to break out of his reverie. "That was awesome!" he exclaimed, a small amount of awe and respect in his voice. "How'd you get the lady to just give you the bottle?"

"Hypnosis," I replied. "It's a special ability of mine."

Martin grinned. "Could you teach it to me?"

"No." My deadpan denial angered Martin, but I cut him off before he could start ranting. "You're too immature for it. Besides, I don't even know if you could learn. I have a very unique skillset. Maybe Tabitha can learn, once you're both older and I figure out if my systems work the same as everyone else's.

"But why Tabitha and not me?" Martin complained. "I'd be good with it!"

I shook my head again and stopped. The two froze behind me. "Martin, that kind of thinking is exactly why I don't want you learning it," I said. I made sure to keep my voice low enough that only the closest passerby and the Warners could hear me. "You'd break that promise in a heartbeat, I can hear it in your voice. If you wanted something, all you'd have to do is activate it and ask. You're already a corrupted kid, I don't want you to get away with more than you already do."

"That's why you payed, instead of just leaving with the medicine," Tabitha realized. Martin gave her a confused look, while my lips twitched upward.

"Because even if you had to go through unsavory means to get the medicine, you still understood that paying was the-"

"-the right thing to do," I finished. "Very good, Tabitha." She flushed a little and darted back behind her brother. I was used to this behavior; Sakura and Shinji were much the same to the sister and brother in personality, except Martin actually cared about his sister.

No, don't think about Shinji. I'd strangle someone if I had to waste another second on that backstabbing, arrogant, useless bastard that I once called a friend.

"That's why I'd teach Tabitha, and not you," I explained. Martin looked put out, so I did the thing that always calmed Ilya down: I ruffled his hair. He squawked in indignation. "Relax, Martin. Get yourself on the right path, and maybe I'll think about it."

He grumbled for another minute, then stopped as we reached the theatre. As expected, the rest of the kids were watching with rapt attention. The movie had reached its climax, both side displaying outlandishly powerful and agile swordsmanship. As I took my seat, I noticed a pair of people, far older than the rest of the teens and children who were there, snickering and rolling their eyes at the various pirouettes and backflips the actors had performed. Set by their seats were two bladed weapons. I frowned at the notion of displaying such things to the impressionable children in the theatre, but copied their weapons anyway. My surprise was immediate. They were both strangely styled and seemed, at first glance, to be nothing more than a few hodge-podge plates of metal screwed together to fashion the barest of semblances of weapons.

I was wrong. I was so wrong.

The first one was a sword with a thin, single edged blade and a grip that looked more like a revolver's. The gunblade was made of very high quality steel, probably strong enough to take a hit or two from a Rank C Noble Phantasm. What was more surprising, however, were the mechanisms inside the blade. They didn't interfere with its structural soundness at all, but with a simple click of a button, the blade would unfold and become a rifle's barrel capable of firing bullets.

The second weapon was even more outlandish than the first. On first glance, it was a simple sickle, made of the same kind of steel as the gunblade, but it split into a series of razor-sharp boomerangs upon changing forms. I stored those two away in a new section of Unlimited Blade Works. Whatever they were, they were functional, dangerous, and if they were allowed to be carried on the street by a pair of middle-aged men, then the Root only knew how many there were out in the real world.

I gave my assigned watchman a thankful nod and a bit of lien. He returned my nod and glued his eyes back to the movie. Martin and Tabitha actually managed to pay attention this time. The movie ended with the typical "good guys wins, bad guy loses" style that almost had me rolling my eyes if the notion hadn't left me smiling.

It was as I was ushering everyone out of the theatre that I saw him. He was clearly male, by the slope of his shoulders and the length of his neck. He was standing off to the side, glasses and a scarf over his face. The only thing that was visible about him was his tousled brown hair. Aside that, nobody in the city would ever recognize anything from his neutral stance.

Nobody except me.

Only I would ever discern anything from him because he was directing everything, very bit of disapproval, dislike, and emotion straight at me. Like a guided missile, his emotions locked onto me, everyone else ignorant of his anger.

"Martin, get everyone back to the airship," I growled. He looked at me quizzically, then followed my gaze to the mysterious person. "He's dangerous. Even to me."

Martin nodded, a hint of true fear entering his eyes. Nevertheless, he managed to round up my group and lead them back to the airship, making his snide comments and declarations of power as convincing as ever.

Once they were out of sight, I trained my focus back on the man. There wasn't anyone else in the plaza; while Martin was getting the kids away, the man must have redirected his aura to the surrounding populace.

"Trace On." The gun cocked and fired, and in an instant, two dozen Circuits exploded to life. I'd learned, at that point, that summoning malleable Noble Phantasms like Kanshou and Bakuya would only end up making them dangerous, so this time I called upon a weapon that could handle the prana.

Durandal blazed to life in my hands, automatically sharpening to an extremely keen point. There were three miracles embedded in the luminous blade that could accomplish a wide range of tasks, one of them being a weaker, slower version of Gae Bolg's reversal of causality.

It was easy enough to cross the distance between the man and me. What was surprising was that he twisted to the side only an instant before Durandal's blade embedded itself in his brick next to his ear. My aim immediately switched from "make a point" to "maim if necessary".

If anything, the man's eyebrows made it seem as though he was surprised at the fact that Durandal had sunk hilt-deep into the brick-and-mortar pillar behind him. I pulled the blade free and swung once again. I knew I wasn't being tactical, but I'd left a gaping hole in my guard, right around my back, and when the man took advantage of that I smiled.

I called upon one of Durandal's miracles to redirect causality from "the blow is blocked, so the sound of steel must ring" to "the sound of steel is ringing, so the blow must have been blocked". Durandal's blade became a nova of white light, and I grimaced. As famed as Roland was for his strength and swordplay (something that, given a few more decades, could have matched Saber), he was one flashy knight. Durandal extended into a half-circle around my body and reformed behind me. The clang of ringing steel reverberated in my bones, but my sword held.

In the man's hand was a cane sword, styled to resemble something like a motorbike's handle. There was a wiry handguard protecting his fist that I knew just from looking at it would hold strong against anything short of a Noble Phantasm. He was fast, faster than I had anticipated, and I instantly let prana flow to my body's maximum. The Aura that Gillian was talking about once more stopped me from tearing myself apart, limiting the flow of my prana when it would have otherwise become too much.

"Who are you?" I asked. Normally, nobody would have answered, but what was normal about a world with superpowered heroes in every city?

"Nobody you need to know about," he said back. There was a distortion in his voice that I couldn't figure out the origin of. Sure, it might have been a device interfering with his voice, but it also could have been lung damage or a hundred other things.

We separated, spinning in a dangerous arc to face each other. Durandal shimmered with light again and changed back to its straight-edged form. The man pulled out a deep red gemstone, almost the size of my hand. What was he going to do, bribe me into leave? Fat chance of that.

No, instead he threw the crystal at my feet. His cane's false bottom swung upwards and settled as a sight. He fired... something. It was bright, very bright, and I couldn't get a lock on what exactly it was before having to turn away from the smoldering light. I jumped away from it.

The blast of light hit the gem, and they both exploded in a magnificent eruption of flames that would have left Rin speechless. The gem was obviously some kind of container, but for prana or Aura, I wasn't sure. According to Gillian, if one trained with their Aura enough it would gain a certain attribute depending on one's goals and mindset at the time. That either meant that the fire was this man's affinity, or it was completely unrelated to the matter.

You guess which one.

I dodged another flash of light, this one clearly visible as it approached through the hazy mass of black smoke in front of me. Good Gods, this guy didn't waste any time. He wasn't anything like the thugs or Gillian, who both hesitated when fighting me. Unlike them, this man didn't seem to have any qualms about killing a child.

My smile turned just a bit fiercer, and the prana infusing my body flowed faster than before. I didn't like it when my enemies held back. The more I could learn from them, the better I'd be able to help others with their powers.

I Analyzed his cane when he approached again. It was made of even better steel than the gunblade had been, almost flawless in its synthesis. Inside was a standard firing system, with all the pins, hammers and interlocking segments one would expect from a gun. loaded into the chamber, however, was something completely different than anything I'd seen before. It was a feasible weapon, judging by the act that my Structural Analysis wasn't sending me into spasms about now, but it was highly inefficient to anyone but a Magus or someone with a lot of Aura. The bullets weren't bullets at all, but a roiling mass of energy just waiting to be released at the first opportunity. How could people even use that, much less control it? The strongest person I knew who could control their energy was Ilya, and she could only have managed that kind of thing twice without a ritual to exchange mana with the life force of the Earth. Theoretically, Gilgamesh could have used that kind of power so casually when he was connected to All the World's Evils, but that was a near-deity with an ungodly amount of just od, never mind the mana it collected from its surroundings in whatever dimension the Heaven's Feel resided in.

That power... well, it frightened me, to be honest. That kind of power could completely and utterly destroy cities if enough of it was used. I had only a few Noble Phantasms at my disposal that could match it, and those were widespread destructive types, not suitable for fighting with near civilization of any sort. Only two weapons in my arsenal had the ability to match that blow for blow, and one of them included the Type slayer, Longinus. How Archer had gotten a weapon capable of slaying an Ultimate One, I had no clue, I was just grateful to have it.

I dodged out of the way of another ball of condensed Aura. It impacted the building behind me, but the explosion didn't tear the four-story apartment to pieces, like I was expecting it to. No, the energy just dissipated into harmless light.

It was D rank.

One of those blasts was most certainly a D rank magical attack, but I didn't know just how far my Magic Resistance stretched. I knew I had some, since several of Rin's Target-Practice-Approved Gandr shots simply splashed against my skin before my final battle with Gilgamesh, and it would only have increased since then. Instead of just standing there like an idiot, though, I did what I do best.

I charged in there without a care in the world and took the attacks head-on.

The first blast scattered on my skin, only charring the ends of my clothing lightly. It seemed that my clothing was also affected by my Magic Resistance. The second shot was stronger, singeing a few new holes in my shirt and jeans. The very tips of my hair changed from blonde to an unpleasant shade of brown before my eyes. Before the man could get off a third shot that would probably give me a second-degree burn, I lashed out with Durandal. The Sword of Roland cut deeply into the barrel of the cane-sword-gun combination, but refused to completely bisect it. I grunted; the steel in this realm was obviously of a far higher strength than the one in mine. I pulled away. I could always use another of Durandal's inherited miracles to finish the job.

Just as I was about to activate the ritual inscribed in the blade, the man, before utterly stoic and emotionless, burst into a gale of shivering laughs that made my spine tingle. "What's so funny?" I barked. "Finally realized you can't beat me?"

The man continued to laugh, for one minute, then two. The sense of honor beaten into me by Saber showed itself again, and I found myself unable to attack my opponent until he was in a position to do the same. Finally, the laughs stopped, replaced by a choking wheeze.

"You're funny, kid," he said, bright and lighthearted. He removed the scarf hiding the lower half of his face and his glasses. The hair- not hair, a wig- swept from his head, revealing thick orange locks that fell to his jaw, one bang concealing an eye. He had too much eyeliner on, making his green eyes stick out like two sore thumbs. Just like everyone else I'd seen in this world, he was pale, but less so than some of the others. Maybe he got outside a lot. "You're really, really funny. Granted, you're quite a bit more talented than I expected you to be, and you managed to keep me occupied while those kids got away. Maybe I should start taking you seriously. Whaddaya say, blondie? Wanna go at it?"

I felt a chill run up my spine. This guy wasn't even being serious? I mean, neither was I, but he was literally throwing masses of power that easily equaled twice my old arsenal a pop and he wasn't even trying. Just... just scary. This man was entirely too dangerous, and if I couldn't beat him (and somehow I knew I couldn't; not only did I not have control over my Magic Circuits, I wouldn't even dream of letting something like Excalibur loose in the middle of a city), then I'd most definitely die.

I never factored in the idea of running away. Gillian's advice from the week before went straight over my head after all. Instead, I tensed. Durandal only had one miracle left before I had to re-Trace it, and while I was a fast Tracer, I wasn't good enough to Trace something quickly, activate whatever effect it had (especially with Jaune's screwy Magic Circuits) and keep myself constantly moving at the same time.

"There's no need for that, Jaune." The second voice was familiar, but I dared not take my eyes off the redhead in case he attacked once again. Where had I heard that second voice before? It was so familiar...

Ozpin.

Ozpin was here, he was behind me, and he didn't sound happy with the situation at all. A man as powerful as Ozpin was scary on his own, but defeating the both of them at once? My only chance of survival would be to lead them out to the wilderness and unleash several Broken Excaliburs. My body probably couldn't handle that kind of strain, but responsibility breeds sacrifice, after all.

Then I realized that Ozpin might be on my side.

"Well, look who the cat dragged in," the man taunted. "The old wizard. What brings you to this neck of the woods, gramps?"

Ozpin laughed, but it was hollow and cold, befitting of a true warrior. A crack of sound echoed from behind me, and I felt something push against my shoulder. Judging by the way the man suddenly flew through the air at several hundred miles per hour, it was probably a blast of compressed air. "I don't think you deserve that answer, Roman," he countered. "But I'll acquiesce. I'm actually here to take the lead of a group of kids that Jaune has been chaperoning for the past few hours. I assume they made it to the airships safely?" At my nod, he let out a small breath of relief. "That's good. But why are you here, Roman? I wouldn't imagine there is anything here you want."

"You know what, gramps? I'm in a good mood, so I'll tell you." Roman didn't advance any further, but he paced from left to right. His eyes kept flicking back and forth between the two of us. If I hadn't had a near death experience with this "Roman", then it would have been a casual Sunday conversation.

"I'm here on a business trip, surprisingly enough," he continued. "I had an old acquaintance I was going to meet for a cash transfer, but imagine my surprise when I see a bunch of kids running through the hallways with sharp objects. Naughty naughty, ya little brat. You'll lose an eye that way. Anyway, I assumed someone had broken in and stolen a few things, so being the good person that I am, I decided I was going to apprehend these foul criminals and make them atone for their misdeeds."

I could feel the sarcasm dripping from his voice. It almost hurt, knowing that a criminal was calling me out for my "misdeeds". "Well," Roman said, spinning on a heel and beginning to walk away. I readied Durandal, but Ozpin held out a hand, stopping me. "I'll be off, then. Don't worry, Oz. I'll be back, you haven't heard the last of me, woohoo." Gods, that was a lot of sarcasm.

"Let him go, Jaune," Ozpin said. "He's right. He lays low for a couple months after a conflict, but he always resurfaces eventually." I turned. He was standing there, just as serenely as ever. "But enough about that. Let's focus on your... escapades today. Tell me why you thought it was a good idea to raid one of the main bases for an acquaintance of Roman Torchwick."

Huh, so that was his full name. Kind of cliche, and it reminded me of an English movie villain whose name I couldn't entirely remember, but it sounded like a classic thief's name. I explained the situation to Ozpin, pausing only when someone else broke my train of thought. By the time I was finished, we'd reached the docks, and my group was waiting for me in a cluster outside. I glanced over Martin and Tabitha; Tabitha was clearly more aggravated than her brother, but even he was biting his lip in nervousness. I waved.

"Everybody, meet Ozpin," I said as I approached. The man gave them a small nod and a smile, one that they hesitantly returned. I could tell by their expression that they were dealing with the same initial impression of him that I had. Martin and Tabitha marched up to me.

"Now that you're here, we can get going, right?" Martin asked. I rolled my eyes. He really was just like Ilya, too impatient and violent to be sensible but not quite bloodthirsty enough to be considered insane. Of course, Martin didn't have gigantic prana reserves and a pinnacle of Greek Legends as a bodyguard, but the principle was the same.

I only just remembered to down two more sickness pills as the airship took off for the orphanage. The pilot glanced back at me, like he was worried about whether or not I was going to vomit on his leather seats again. To be fair, it was really nice leather, but I liked to think it was just the shock of having it happen the first time that set me to puking.

* * *

Our landing at the orphanage didn't inspire a lot of fanfare, but then again, I hadn't expected it to. The priests were waiting when we approached, ready to escort the children to their various designated areas. I stopped the Warner siblings just before the disembarked.

"Be careful, alright?" I told them. "When you're in that town, don't go looking in places that you know involves some shady business. Stick to wherever the group goes and the pharmacy. I'll probably stop by in a few months again to reset the Geas on that pharmacist, but until then, no stealing and no drug deals. Promise me."

They did, Martin halfheartedly doing so. It was kind of sad to think that I had to manually stray these brats from that path, but a Hero's responsibilities range from the extravagant to the mundane. Tabitha led Martin back to the Great Hall, where dinner was just being served.

As the doors closed, I caught a glimpse of a person from the airship windows. He didn't look like any of the standard monks at the orphanage, wearing a tightly fit navy blue uniform instead of robes. His auburn hair stood on end. It was hard to tell where the hair began and the skin ended, because unlike anyone else I'd seen so far, his skin was a chestnut shade so similar to his hair they looked almost identical. A pair of oval sunglasses hid his eyes from view.

Normally, I wouldn't be so concerned with him. Every Church had their quirks, Kirei being the chief example I knew of.. However, it was what was around his neck and emblazoned on his shoulder that caught my attention. There was a cross hanging around his neck, simple in make and made of what looked like pure gold. So far, I hadn't seen the slightest hint of anything pertaining to Christianity in this new world. The coffin marked with a cross and nails on his shoulder only solidified my theory.

The Burial Agency.

It was a semi-secret part of the Church that was only supposed to be revealed to the highest members of the Magus Association. Of course, with her status as the apprentice of the Wizard Marshal Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg, Rin was one of those high members, and the moment Saber had heard the words come out of her mouth she was interrogated on it. They were responsible for the killing and ultimate deletion of Dead Apostle Ancestors from existence, and they were scary. I'd only gotten one chance to meet a Burial Agency member in my lifetime, and she fought on the level of a Servant, if not higher than that. Ciel was ridiculously overpowered, and she was ranked seventh on the list of Burial Agency members. Of the stronger six, I'd only heard of the first member, and she was dead and gone. Zelretch had apparently been a founding member as well.

That man was most definitely a member of the Burial Agency, so why was he here? Was there a closer door between this world and my own than Avalon? Or was it an instance of Magic like the Kaleidoscope, where the user could easily move between universes?

The door closed before I could get a closer look at the man. If the Burial Agency was here, did that mean that there were Dead Apostles here as well? Zelretch was automatically given a free pass by the Church because he'd already accomplished what he wanted to do with the Root of Akasha, as well as the fact that he didn't cause too much trouble. They probably couldn't do anything to him anyway. There were rumors around the Clock Tower that he had fought the Type-Moon to a standstill and then defeated it. There were even supposed to be several Dead Apostles stronger than he was, most notably the Dead Apostle Altrouge Brunestud, current heir to the title of Type-Moon. I didn't know how powerful she was, but if she could defeat Arcueid, arguably one of the strongest creatures in the solar system according to rumor, then she was no pushover.

It seemed my E ranked Luck was showing again. Who else would have a possible infestation of Dead Apostle Ancestors on their hands after defeating a God-King? It was just one enemy after another in my life, whether it be schoolwork or Servants.

* * *

The moment I returned to the Arc house, I was engulfed in a flying hug. Jeanne looked like she'd been crying, red stains streaking down her face. She glared at me with wide, puffy blue eyes. Behind her, Gillian was leaning idly against a railing, his face expressing both worry and pride.

"What were you thinking, picking a fight like that?" Jeanne scolded. I wriggled futilely against her grip, which was getting uncomfortably tight. "And with Roman Torchwick, no less? I should ground you for life for doing something that stupid!"

"Be glad Torchwick took it easy on you, son," Gillian added. "That man's on the same level as a Beacon professor. It was foolish to even acknowledge him, let alone challenge him to battle."

"I didn't challenge him, he challenged me," I argued. "Besides, I couldn't just let him kill the Warners. They were in a tight spot as it is, never mind having a criminal after them."

"So you decided to risk your neck to save two kids instead?" Jeanne countered. "Jaune, that's utterly stupid! Do I have to tell you again? Getting yourself killed will only serve to hurt more people in the end. Wisdom is the key to victory, and knowing when to retreat saves more lives than charging forward recklessly."

"More lives?" I snapped. I was getting riled up, I knew that. I also knew that arguing with them wasn't the best idea. But neither was saving everybody. It was Archer's philosophy to save as many people as was wise. It was mine to save as many people as I could. "Don't you talk to me about saving more lives! I'll save everyone, no matter who they are or what they've done. My life isn't worth nearly as much as theirs are. And if I can't do it myself, then I'll find someone who can."

"Well said, Jaune." Ozpin emerged from the kitchen, a cup of freshly brewed coffee in his hands. "A bit more optimistic than the reality of this world of ours, but it is a good goal. Tell me, how? What happens when you can't defeat something that poses a threat to, say, the whole world?"

I frowned. That had already happened. Gilgamesh was ridiculously powerful to the point where a single swing of Ea could have cleaved an ocean in two. I'd managed to beat him, but it took effort on the level of reaching for Akasha to even create a Reality Marble, much less use it as effectively as I did in that final fight. I couldn't do that outside of Unlimited Blade Works, and now that it was classified as a True Magic in my eyes, it took a lot more energy to maintain. Even with Jaune's Magic Circuits, I would only be able to materialize it for an extra two minutes at most compared to my old self. How Zelretch and Aozaki managed to constantly fuel their True Magics, I had no idea.

Ozpin stared at me, awaiting my answer. I Traced Gae Bolg, its blood-red length gleaming in the artificial light. Jeanne stifled a gasp, while Gillian glanced at me interestedly before returning his attention to the spear. "If I can't beat it, I'll just have to imagine something that can," I told Ozpin. Gae Bolg promptly shattered into flecks of crimson light, its dark taint staining my prana an ugly red color. I'd learned a lot from Rin throughout the duration of the Grail War, the least of which was presentation and intimidation. Rin knew how to maneuver a person into cooperating with her, but intimidation was a lot easier, and even I'd admit that she was a lot better at it than persuasion. The showiness just came with being a Jewel Mage. They were notoriously hard to fund, due to the sheer price of their gemstones. The only people I knew of that could actively fund their careers as Jewel Mages were Rin and Zelretch. The red light faded, allowing me to see Ozpin's face once more. He was smiling slightly, like he'd seen something pleasantly surprising.

"That is quite the interesting ability," he admitted. "The ability to create whatever is on the forefront of one's mind?"

"Not exactly, but it's a close enough explanation," I confirmed. "Swords are the easiest, but I can Trace any kind of weapon without much trouble."

A glance at Jaune's parents conveyed their expressions perfectly. Gillian had a bit more time to get used to my ability. I'd thrown more than a hundred swords at him during our spar, after all. Jeanne, on the other hand, was working her jaw, trying to balance the revelation of my abilities with what she knew about Jaune. It wasn't adding up, but the missing link between the two of us was too important to just give away. If I told the parents of the person whose soul I'd consumed, they'd try their very hardest to kill me in revenge. It was something that I knew from experience. I'd wanted to kill Caster and Gilgamesh quite a lot during the War, even deluding myself into thinking that as long as Caster was eliminated, most of my problems would just disappear. Then Caster had taken Saber, and that hatred turned into a desire for revenge. Revenge was a powerful motivator.

Besides, if their mannerisms and Gillian's abilities were any indication, they could best me in a fight if they worked together. I probably wouldn't have control of Jaune's Magic Circuits for some time, and even if I did, I was fairly sure that Jaune had some sort of curse on him. My Thaumaturgy just wasn't working at the level it was supposed to at sixteen years old, despite my prior experience. I would have to get that Workshop done quickly.

"I see." Ozpin took a sip of his coffee. The heady scent was rich with chocolate and hazelnuts, and I suddenly found myself missing the soothing smell of tea. "I think you may just be an exception to Gillian's rule," he continued. "That tenet is part of a code all Huntsmen and Huntresses swear to follow upon graduation from their respective academies. We don't like it any more than you do, but sometimes it's in our job description to leave the smaller group for the larger. Sometimes, you have to allow the compassionate to die in exchange for the lives of the useful, but with your power... You could grow up to be an incredibly strong person, who might just be able to save everyone. Keep your dream, Jaune. It will be useful."

With that, he strode past me and picked up his forest green overcoat. "Well, I think we can all agree that this was an eventful excursion, but I must be going. Glynda would be furious with me if she knew that I haven't done all of my paperwork yet."

A second later, he was gone, leaving the three of us standing in silence, Gillian contemplating my abilities, Jeanne trying not to blow a fuse, and me wondering just how I was going to get out of such a mess.

* * *

**Well, that the end of the Child's Play arc. It was short, yes, but it introduced several recurring characters. I'll even give you guys a hint: someone in this chapter is going to be pivotal in the story ahead. Now that that's done, let's get onto reviews!**

**Master Cat Butt: Shirou's not going to be able to use all of the weapons he's seen in the three routes. Mostly he'll be using some recurring weapons in the Type-Moon series, weapons that he Traced from Gilgamesh's GoB, and the swords he saw during the battle with Berserker in Heaven's Feel. As for Enkidu, it wouldn't really give him an instant win. The Chains of Heaven increase their stopping power in accordance with the Divinity rank of the opponent. For regular people like Jeanne and Gillian, for example, they'd only be about as strong as normal steel chains. Locking away Berserker, on the other hand, would certainly be easier because he'd a demigod. Shirou can indeed use the Phantasms recorded in Archer's UBW. The corrupted Excalibur was infected by Angra Mainyu, but it's still Excalibur, so Shirou would only be able to Trace the regular version.**

**exillion: I'm sorry you don't like the story man, I really am. But if you don't like what I'm writing just because you're unhappy with my decision to go the Reincarnation route doesn't mean you have to diss the story as a whole. To be honest, part of the reason I wrote Shirou in as consuming Jaune's soul and taking over his body was because I don't particularly _like_ canon Jaune. He should be dead several times over by the start of Breach alone, never mind how many times he would have been killed during that episode. Honestly, he's less of an underdog character and more of a bumbling buffoon with A+++ Luck.**

**Panzer4life: Jack the Ripper isn't going to come in for a while, unfortunately. I can't say anything on how she'll get to Remnant, mostly because it would spoil a huge arc in the story, but rest assured that she'll be an important character.**

**lukefang: Jaune's body is pretty weak at the start of the story, so Shirou's going to have to train it pretty much from scratch. As for styles, Shirou doesn't really train in them; he uses so many weapons that training in just a single way of using a single weapon would be pointless. He's definitely more of a "do it as you go along" kind of guy.**

**Anon: Thanks for pointing that out! I'll fix it right away.**

**Thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, followed and favorited! As of May 9, 2015, this story has 10,905 views, 5195 visitors, 279 followers, 215 favorites, and has been included in 3 communities. You guys rock! That's all for now, so I'll see you guys on Tuesday. Have a nice weekend!**


	6. Admissions

**Hey guys, and welcome back to Remnant of Cursed Paradise! I've gotta say, I didn't expect so many people to be against Roman being that strong. There _are_ actual reasons for it, though, so I'm keeping it as is. Roman's only going to be a minor character anyway, so don't let it bother you guys too much. Another of the big problems that people had was with Enkidu. I may have made myself misunderstood about Enkidu's power, so I'll clarify: Enkidu _is_ a Noble Phantasm, so it's by nature a lot more physically durable than a regular chain. A recent review about it being as strong as Adamantium isn't that bad of a comparison. When I said it was as strong as handcuffs to non-divines, I meant that its actual _concept_, the strength of its restraining ability, is about equivalent to a pair of handcuffs on a normal person; that is, most people can't get out of it without special tools or a key. Sorry if it got a little confusing there. So, back to the story!**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Admissions**

Three months had passed since the day Ozpin had left us gaping like fish in the Arc's family room. I'd revealed the true scope of my abilities bit by bit, careful not to give away anything too earth-shattering like my Reality Marble, to the Arcs. Surprisingly, Jeanne was the calmer of the two, patiently taking my revelations in stride and sparring with me often to help me hone them further. Gillian, however, was the more aggressive. I still hadn't given away the existence of Unlimited Blade Works, but he'd nearly had a fit when he found out I had Traced his sword and was using it once in a while as a projectile.

He argued vehemently that his sword was only going to be used in single combat, and only as a handheld weapon. That man could be terrifying when he was really angry, and I filed the Arc's family sword under the "use only in cases of real swordsmanship" category in my mind.

I'd gone on several more excursions to neighboring towns with the Warners in those three months. Each time, they seemed just a bit happier than before. Tabitha wasn't hiding behind her brother nearly as much, and she was actually quite the commanding presence when she asserted herself. The priests and nuns knew to expect me at that point, but I still managed to find more than a glimpse of that Burial Agency member. When I'd asked the Father of the orphanage about him, he only said that his name was Mr. Dawn, and that he was often gone for months on end on pilgrimages. Dawn was probably using some sort of Kaleidoscope item to travel between this world and the Vatican. Not even Terrence, the orphanage's local information broker and gossiper, could tell me much about him. Terrence once said that he had managed to exorcise a fully grown demon from a human once. That had put me on edge. Demons were notorious for being a race of a different sort than anything else in my world. They used Reality Marbles as their natural element, which was scary enough in itself, but the strongest demons were said to match dragons in power. Dragons generated prana simply by breathing. They were the ultimate class of Phantasmal Beast, and no magus except the Dead Apostle Ancestors and maybe the Queen of the Clock Tower could deal with them. Demons that could match that power were a force to be reckoned with.

And if this guy could remove one from a human and kill it... Well, that kind of power was monstrous at the least, and downright unreal at most. Even I wouldn't be able to handle a demon, even in Unlimited Blade Works. Archer had only one weapon that was especially effective against them, and all it did was cancel their Reality Marbles for a short amount of time.

After trying and failing to get more information on Mr. Dawn, I worked on improving my skills with Jaune's Magic Circuits. Progress was much faster than I'd anticipated, but it probably still counted as painfully slow for most Magi. My original method of creating Magic Circuits, simply creating them with my nerves as a catalyst, gave me about a third of the prana that a normal inborn Circuit produced. These not only worked almost five times as efficiently as my old ones, I had to manually activate them one by one in order to get a good grasp on them. Jaune's seventeenth birthday was approaching in five months, and I'd managed to activate half of his seventy four Circuits, even if I could only control a total of twenty eight. My progress did quicken the more I worked on them, but each of the Circuits seemed to be unique, channeling a slightly different amount of prana than the others. My least efficient one worked at about thirty eight units, while my strongest one and the one I'd most recently mastered could channel about sixty units.

And during it all, I'd been learning about this new place. There was a library about five miles away from the house that I'd spend most of my days in, just gathering information. The world was a lot bigger than my own, at more than 15,000 kilometers in diameter. Four continents were arrayed across the equatorial region, while the poles and midlands were an unbroken ocean. Aside from that, I also learned why people here were so keen on air travel: the air had the fewest Grimm.

When I first read that this world was infested with Grimm, I thought it was just an elaborate metaphor. Then it came up again, and again, and again. Eventually, I just decided to check a graph.

An estimated 99.9% of the world's population was of Grimm. There were about seven million humans on the planet, and another four million Faunus, a race of half-animals that looked like they'd come straight out of an alchemist's lab. Total, forty million non-Grimm creatures, including indigenous animals and cultivated plant species. That left the planet populated by just short of twelve billion Grimm, and that was an eight-year-old estimate. That actual number could have been anywhere from slightly higher to almost three billion more at that point, and nobody knew if Grimm even repopulated or not. In fact, nobody was really sure if the Grimm could even be killed. Sure, you could cut one to pieces, but they eroded so quickly they could simply reform elsewhere, for all anyone knew.

I swung out of bed, already in motion for the day. It hadn't taken long for Jaune's body to react to my light sleep schedule, and my light sleep hadn't abated even after the end of the Grail War. I was still looking over my shoulder to see if I had a follower, although I hadn't done that in more than two days. My hair and eyes were also changing. My skin, I passed off as simply getting a good tan while I was outdoors. I had darkened several shades in the three months I was here. My scars, both from the Grail War and Jaune's body, were beginning to become more prominent. Archer's arm was still nowhere to be seen, but the sunburst scar that went completely through my heart exploded in a flurry of biological activity the week before last, replacing itself on the newly-muscled chest of this new body. My hair and eyes, however, were taking on more drastic changes. My eyes were currently a mottled mix between blue and amber, the brown radiating from my pupil in an encroaching starburst. My hair had, of course, decided to defy all laws of reality and turn red in gradual shades. That normally wouldn't have been such a big deal, but it was turning red all the way through, not just at the roots. Jaune's parents kept asking me if I was dyeing it.

"Interesting," Gillian had said when I told him I wasn't. "I don't think there's ever been a redheaded Arc, not on my half at least. I don't know about Jeanne, though. Hang on, I think one of her aunts is a redhead... or was that auburn?"

I shook myself of those thoughts and returned my focus to the book in front of me. I'd convinced myself the week before that it was a good idea to train with Aura as well as prana. The only problem was, my Magic Circuits kept interfering with the flow of Aura. And that hurt.

So, I went by the logical conclusion that I was doing it wrong. And you know what? For once, I wasn't. After figuring that out, I just tried to get better at manipulating my Aura. I set the book down, its contents restating terms I was unfamiliar with. Meditation was something that all martial artists and fighters did, both to psych themselves up for battle and improve their mental fortitude. I got into the seiza position and calmed my breathing.

After a while, everything outside blended into a constant stream of information while my Aura flickered in and out of existence. The white mass of energy didn't act at all like I thought it would. Instead of flowing through my body, keeping a steady pace, it just... sat there. It didn't do anything until I started channeling prana, and that was only because the way I generated od was likely to damage my nervous system after a while. I carefully reopened my largest Circuit and let the prana flow into my effect was the same as all the times before. The Aura burst into life, congregating around the Circuit, judging whether or not it was a threat. Despite my repeated attempts to add the Circuits onto its "Okay" list, I'd been unsuccessful. All it did was flow towards the Circuits for approximately two seconds, gauge its level of threat, and return to its sedate pool.

I sighed, shutting off the prana. Despite all my attempts to get the Aura into motion, it stubbornly refused to obey my commands. Maybe it needed contact with another, active Aura to jump-start it. Gillian did say something about manually activating my Aura. If that was the case, then there was obviously a method to activate it on my own.

Once the prana drained completely from my system, I set my sights on another object. I was sitting in the Arcs' greenhouse. It was small, only the size of a single room, but it worked for my purposes. I'd replaced all the clear paneling with brick and, on the inside layer, concrete. Several tables and bookshelves were arrayed along the walls, with a large dais in the middle containing all sorts of writing tools. My Workshop was sparse in comparison to the one I'd seen in the Einzbern mansion during the Grail War, mostly due to my lack of information. Even then, my old Workshop was absolute shit compared to someone like, say, Rin. As a Tohsaka, she had the money, connections and brains to make a Workshop that probably made the Queen of the Clock Tower jealous.

This new Workshop was filled to the brim with journals. I'd written more than a hundred in my stay here, all of them pertaining to my personal Thaumaturgy. Tracing took up an entire bookshelf by itself. The better part of my literature, however, was devised entirely of theories that were presented to me by the various Noble Phantasms. I'd been able to slowly glean more about the enchantments on each one of the mythical weapons the more I'd used them. That just gave me another reason to spar with them.

I pulled another journal off a more sparse bookshelf and snapped it open to my last page. Filling it and the next five pages on my observations of the Aura mass took only a few minutes, and then I had nothing to do.

Ozpin had come by a few times since the incident with the Warners. He was always reserved, but every time he asked me for a spar, I obliged, more out of necessity and pressure than anything else. He was good, extremely so. He could block anything short of a Noble Phantasm without any apparent effort, and even when I was using the mystical weapons he was hard to hit. It took a C rank or higher, something on the level of a standard spell's ten-line Aria to do any damage to him, but I'd never been able to complete one for even the simplest of spells, since it took so only Aria I would actually use in battle was my opening for Unlimited Blade Works, and even then I didn't go past the first line. The reasoning for that was the same as not revealing my more powerful Noble Phantasms: I just didn't want to give anyone my most powerful advantages. Ozpin was strong, but he was also cunning, and there was not a single doubt in my mind, all the way back in my first spar with him, that he could find a way to counter my Reality Marble if he was exposed to it long enough. There was always something he seemed to want to say, as well, as if he was considering something but not quite ready to reveal what it was. Maybe it was the fact that he was still holding back severely in our duels.

There was a piece of paper to my left, so I grabbed it and started sketching out the design for a new sword. The Arcs' armory had grown sizably since I had entered Jaune's body. My fascination with weapons had left me with more than a few purchases at the armories of every town I visited. Now, an entire storage shed next to the house housed all the weapons I bought. I hadn't yet managed to find one like the hybrids the Huntsmen usually carried around, but during my travels with the orphanage, I'd seen a good dozen of them. Each one was made custom-order, and while they seemed extremely expensive (I still wasn't very knowledgeable with the new world's currency) they also seemed necessary. I'd heard several news stories about how Huntsmen armed with regular weapons had fought to their deaths, but not a single one was ever told about somebody with a customized weapon. That left me with quite a lot of choices. Since I had these new and improved Magic Circuits, I would never really need to carry a sword with me. On the other hand, however, an unarmed Huntsman would draw a lot of attention by... well, pretty much anyone. I didn't need to keep something like my Thaumaturgy secret from anyone, since they more often than not thought it was a Semblance, but Tracing was one of my two greatest abilities, and it allowed me to use most of my trump cards. If someone were to find a way to cancel my Tracing, then I'd have to bring out Unlimited Blade Works.

That was a very bad thing.

I'd only tried summoning the full extent of Unlimited Blade Works once. The world apparently didn't like that. Long story short, I almost collapsed in on myself after ten minutes of keeping it active, because the interference with the world was ridiculous. My normal instances of Tracing worked completely fine, and the swords stayed in the world for up to two days if I didn't destroy them. Introducing something not of the world was fine here, but apparently directly influencing the reality of the world wasn't. It was odd at first, but now that I actively made the choice to influence reality with Unlimited Blade Works, it made more sense. My prana was apparently indistinguishable from Aura to the world. I'd activated something called an Aura Detector at one of the local airports that signalled authorities if someone with a high output of Aura passed through it. I'd tried searching for the Aura, but realized I had accidentally left a half-dozen Circuits on.

So, by way of trial and error, I'd figured out my Tracing was the equivalent of a skill called Aura Structuring. The people here couldn't use it to anywhere near the proficiency of my skill, and since my Tracing didn't get any less powerful after the discovery, it was safe to say that they were fundamentally different abilities.

I stood and Traced another set of Kanshou and Bakuya, as well as Shisui, and placed them in various hidden alcoves around the room. There was no telling when a Magus- or Grimm now, it seemed- would attack, even in a Workshop. They would stay there, unperturbed by the world for another day, when I would once again replace them.

I shut the door to the greenhouse and headed outside. There was an airship out front, which was strange enough, but Jaune's parents were waiting there as well. "What's going on?" I called.

They turned to me. Jeanne wasn't exactly crying, but there were definitely tears in her eyes, and her face was splotched slightly red. Gillian, on the other hand, was assuming what I liked to call his "proud" father stance, with his legs spread at shoulder width, his arms crossed and a small smile on his face. That put any assumption of something bad happening right out the window. While Jeanne was definitely the stronger of the two when it came to fighting, Gillian was much more serious, so I tended to rely on him for emotional cue more than her.

"Ah, we were just about to start looking for you, Jaune," he said. "We've got a visitor."

"Is it Ozpin again?" I asked. "He shouldn't be around begging for me to take his place chaperoning the kids for another two weeks. What does he want now?"

Before Jeanne and Gillian could scold me on my lack of manners, another voice piped up, soft and bell-like. "I assure you, Mr. Arc, I'm not the Headmaster. I did come with a message for you, however."

I shifted, craning my neck to look around Gillian. The woman behind him was a brighter blond than the both of them, but just as pale. Her eyes were green, and her face softly angled. A pair of oval glasses was perched on the bridge of her nose. Her hair was tightly drawn into a bun, which only furthered the stern, matronly air she carried about her. She wore a white blouse that was neatly tucked into a long black skirt, with a black cape lined with purple draped around her neck. At first, it looked like the cape had been torn, but then I realized both sides were symmetrical and studded with gold dots, most likely a purposeful flaw in the design. The was a riding crop tucked into a holster at her ankle, and through the opening of a pouch at her waist, I could see a pair of sharply-cut Dust gems.

I'd heard of Glynda Goodwitch before. She was dangerous, but not on the level of Ozpin. Maybe she was as good as Torchwick, probably a little stronger. Even so, she could still cause serious damage, and as a long-range fighter, I would have a hard time of getting in close to strike. She was an ally, though, which meant some serious firepower as backup should the need arise.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jaune," she said. I nodded.

"And you as well." I gestured to the house. "Would you like some tea or snacks? Maybe a glass of Chianti?"

Goodwitch looked mildly surprised by the offer. "I could use a glass of wine, but unfortunately, I'm piloting. I'm only here to read a special announcement from the Headmaster." She cleared her throat and pulled out her Scroll. The personal device was popular nowadays, and many schools had begun offering them to students as a way of keeping track of their locations and Aura reserves. I had no idea how it would react to prana, so I held off on buying one. "Let's see... ah, here it is. Jaune Arc, for the combat potential you have demonstrated, your above average intelligence and your strong sense of self, you have been formally invited to attend Beacon Academy. A professor will be sent to inform you of this development, as well as to accompany you should you need any materials before admittance. It is my sincerest hope that you will decide to accept this invitation. With regards, Headmaster Emmanuel Ozpin of Beacon Academy." She looked down, frowning slightly. "P.S. Can you look after the kids on Tuesday after next? I have a lot of paperwork to do that day."

I sighed. Of course he had paperwork to do that day. He always had the exact same paperwork to do on those days. Not that I didn't enjoy watching the kids, and both of the Warners, surprisingly, had shown the potential to develop Magic Circuits, but it was his responsibility, not mine. A glaring hole was in that explanation, somewhere.

Aside from that, an invitation to Beacon Academy? Ozpin and I both knew that I could handle myself in the Hunting school, but I was still sixteen. Ozpin didn't honestly think I was going to accept, was he? Then again, I sort of did want to accept. Inside that school were a lot of weapons, and a lot more knowledge. If there was one thing I felt towards my Unlimited Blade Works, it was a mixture of pride and shame at the number of swords collected within it, but I often got a little greedy when it came to Analyzing large amounts of weapons. Not only that, but the school's library, the largest in Vale with an entire section dedicated solely to the discovery and control of Aura, could help me solve my dilemma on whether or not it negatively impacted my prana. Then there was the idea of participating in active battle once more. I was never a fighter, more of a tinkerer to be quite truthful, but something deep within loved to fight. Whether it was human nature, or some miniscule fragment of All the World's Evils implanted in me during the Fuyuki Fire and the battle with Gilgamesh, it drew me to battle and urged me relentlessly to take part in it. After a while, it simply became part of my being, especially after I began living with Taiga. There were quite a few upsides to attending Beacon, it seemed.

At the same time, however, here were several downsides. For one, I'd have to move all of the information inside my Workshop to Beacon. I'd put up a Bounded Field so simple that even I could perform it to prevent entry. The knitted patch of prana and space would cause people's attention to simply skip over the greenhouse. Not even the Arcs, who owned the thing, could pay more than a second glance at it, but all Bounded Fields eventually disintegrate, and mine was no exception. I was not about to risk my secrets being exposed just because I wanted to attend a school. Of course, I could always bring some extra luggage bags and just pile all of my research material into those. They would take up a bit of extra room on the airship to the school, but it wouldn't be that cramped. Then there came the problem of the kids.

It was no secret that most of the kids in the orphanage absolutely adored visitors. I was a little different, but I was no exception. They loved it when Ozpin or I visited and told them stories (usually censored and embellished). Martin and Tabitha had become my miniature proteges, following me just about anywhere. Martin would be furious if I stopped visiting, and while Tabitha wouldn't show quite as much anger, she'd be disheartened that she lost out on a chance to learn Magecraft from me.

The pros definitely outweighed the cons, but I still hesitated.

"Tell him... can you tell him that I'll attend? On the condition that I get a day off every month to visit the orphanage near Marte, and there are enough bookshelves in my room to hold all my journals."

Glynda nodded. "I'll notify him. Don't worry about not having your requests granted; Ozpin really wants you to attend. If that's everything, I'll be on my way."

Without a chance for me to question her further on her abilities, Glynda leapt to the open door of the airship, completely ignoring the thirteen foot extended staircase that led to the cockpit. Moments later, the airship rose with a jerk and took off faster than I thought could be possible. My stomach turned a little at the sight. There are truly some things worse than death, and Glynda's driving was officially one of them.

"I knew it would happen eventually," Jeanne said after a moment, wiping some moisture from her eyes. "But to think, my son is a prodigy!"

"She's right, you know," Gillian added. "I've heard of a few rare cases where a lucky Signal student would be pushed up a year into Beacon, but never someone who didn't attend a training school. You're a damn lucky kid, Jaune."

Several things crossed my mind at once. Firstly, why weren't they worried about the cost? Beacon's annual enrollment averaged about ten thousand lien. Roughly translated using a cup of black coffee as the zero point, that would equal more than six and a half million yen. Beacon really was the best of the best, but it came with the prices as well as the tutoring. There were always chances for scholarships, of course, and my grades weren't that bad in my old world, but that was still a ridiculous amount of money. The Arcs were a fairly old family that lived better off than the average Vale citizen, but even they couldn't afford five years of that without suffering some monetary damage.

The second item on my agenda was not an economic one, but a physical one. I didn't particularly need anything new, judging by the Beacon class requirements list Ozpin had cleverly slipped me during his last visit. That meant that in the ten days before term began, I'd have to gather and organize all of the information in my Workshop, then pack it all up, explain to Ozpin that there was sensitive information in those bags that he most certainly could not have, and convince him to give me an abandoned classroom or something similar to continue practicing my Magecraft. Even as I accepted the congratulations and headed towards the greenhouse, my mind was working a mile a minute. In the worst case scenario, I'd just have to spend a few hours weaving a Bounded Field in front of a few bookshelves in my room to hide them from any outsiders.

I re-entered the Workshop, only just then noticing the shimmering gold light that came from the three-layered Magic Circle inscribed on the floor in quicksilver. The book on the dais in the middle of the room was shining as well.

It was ready.

In the beginning of the Grail War, I was introduced to the idea of stats, or parameters that identified and measured the general abilities displayed by Servants. Rin and several other Masters had managed to make their own Codexes during the last two wars; my father's own was apparently destroyed by Gilgamesh near the end of the Fourth War. It never faded, and as far as I knew, had an endless number of pages, operating by the rule of "opening to the person you wish to see". As long as that person revealed their greatest attack or spilled their blood onto the cover of the book acting as the Codex, their full span of abilities would be revealed to the user. Rin had graciously provided me (I'd accidentally taken the wrong textbook from her Workshop and never got around to putting it back) with the information needed to make one, which thankfully only required something to connect with leylines and a few drops of blood here or there.

The golden light stopped shining, and the book returned to its normal appearance. Prana hummed beneath its surface. I pulled one of Jaune's fingerless gloves off and stabbed a thumb into my canine. A single drop of blood splashed onto the book's sapphire-blue cover. It was absorbed, as if the book knew who I was and wanted my information.

I opened the Codex while thinking resolutely of myself. A picture of me appeared on the left page, listing my basic measurements and stats. My abilities were listed in fine, lilting print on the right page.

I spent a few minutes just looking over the full scope of my abilities. Some of them made sense, namely the [**Love of Swords**] skill and [**Archery**]. Strangely enough, I had a Noble Phantasm page as well. It, several of my abilities, and my general stats were listed as unknown. Currently, the only stat I was absolutely sure of was my E Luck, although that was due to the [**Curse of the Dweeb**] ability. Jaune's birthday was five months away, meaning that my luck was a solid D when unhampered, and would even increase to C during battle. This world didn't have classes apparently, so there wasn't anything like the Grail system in place. That meant that at the very least, there weren't many people on the level of Ozpin or Torchwick, who had the possibility of matching up to Servants if they faced off.

I stooped to the dais and pulled the chalk and ink off the table. They went into the first bag, along with my prana-charged ritual items and a few stray Dust gems. The second, third and fourth were all filled to the brim with my various notes and journals. The fifth consisted only of clothes and Jaune's light armor. Chances were that I'd never use it, since I was so used to fighting unarmored, but it always helped to be sure. The sixth and seventh were smaller, but no less important. While I hadn't brought anything with me from the old world, my memories were very much intact, and after practicing for two months I was a fairly good artist as well. It took a few tries, but...

I stared fondly at the pictures on the walls. There were only five of them, but each one rendered a faithful scene in my mind. The first was a portrait of Saber in her full regal armor, a stern look in her emerald eyes. The second was more like a dream painted onto my reality, with Issei, Ilya, Sakura, Saber, Rin and even Lancer sitting around my dining room table, smiling and eating. The third, another portrait, depicted Archer in his armor and cloak, looking over the city impassively with his bow and a Traced Caladbolg in his hands. A lot more emotion went into the fourth picture. Half of the background was filled up by a roiling mass of muscles and tangled hair, while in the foreground stood a red-haired individual holding a gleaming white sword. The battles against Berserker came to a head in that snowy forest.

The fifth painting was hidden by a pile of leaves and pots in an empty corner, and quite frankly it could stay that way for all I cared. I'd not been able to sleep well until I got the horrors of All the World's Evils out of my head. The painting was a perfect representation of the things I'd seen, but it would be better if I didn't take it with me. The four that I did pack took a bit of work to fit into the smaller bags, but eventually I managed it. By the time I was done packing up and had wiped the Magic Circle from the floor, it was nearing dinnertime, so I used the last of the light to make my way back to the house and started on dinner.

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**Alright, so that's it. There's a bit of filler for you, but we should really be getting into things in the next chapter! Now, onto reviews:**

**Guest: Thanks for enjoying the story, but you're wrong on so many levels here. First of all, it's stated several times by Rin in the UBW route (it's in a few obscure lines after Ilya's death) that there is a separate alphabetical ranking system for normal spells. Besides, it'd be stupid for the Clock Tower to not have measures of an apprentice's power. Secondly, Gilgamesh's stats are far worse than what you said they are. You might be thinking of Gilgamesh as a Servant, where he not only had the Grail to support him, but Tokiomi as well. After being Incarnated by the Grail at the end of the Fourth War, Gilgamesh's stats drastically drop to a C, a few D's and specifically an E ranked Mana stat. The only stat that remains the same is his Luck stat, but that's likely due to his Golden Rule skill. Roman's cane also fires the equivalent of D-rank _regular_ magical attacks, and most Servants have Noble Phantasms that outstrip that by a large margin. Finally, Shirou didn't kill anyone in this fic yet. He knocked out all of the thugs except for one, and he only left him nailed to a wall with a couple of swords. That wouldn't kill someone for a few hours at least.**

**FateFan: You're damn right that Fate characters are OP as shit. We might also be thinking of different Longinus weapons: this Longinus is the Longinus from [Type-Moon]'s Notes, the sword that also qualifies as a spear and a sword. It's from a different dimension, hence why Shirou is confused that Archer would have such a unique weapon.**

**HE-SpecOps: Thanks for enjoying so far! However, I'm not sure what you're trying to say here. Jaune's body _is_ supple, mainly since it's clear that by the time he entered Beacon he had barely trained with the sword. He's not going to have a lot of power behind his blows unless Shirou Reinforces the body. Secondly, I did give Shirou a lot of Circuits, but it's not exactly retconning, it's limiting his potential, just like what the writers of Fate/Stay Night did. Shirou is arguably the most overpowered character in the series because if he can't defeat something himself, he only has to use something from his and Archer's fucking_ world_ of weapons to beat it. Thirdly, Ciner's power level hasn't been accurately measured. It's okay to assume, however, that she's both as powerful as Glynda and far stronger, if Qrow and Ozpin are both wary of her. Finally, the Rule of Cool thing. I know that RWBY is based around the Rule of Cool, Authority Asskicking, and Combat Kids. That doesn't mean that just because this is set in RWBY's world I'm going to write the way Monty Oum would write it. This is going to be a more logical fic than RWBY is as a show (see my comment about Jaune in the last chapter, for instance). Rule of Cool probably isn't going to apply any more. **

**Lord Sigfry: That's the sad truth of Shirou's existence: that even if he tries as hard as he can, he can't save everyone. I tried especially to emulate that in the later half of this fic.**

**MElee Smasher: Sorry, that would be telling! You'll just have to wait.**

**Bookeater-otaku: Shirou didn't kill anyone yet; he only knocked the thug out. On the other hand, that name-give was a stupid thing, and in my hindsight I fixed it along with a couple more instances in the chapter ahead. Thanks for giving me shit about it, otherwise I wouldn't have realized how stupid it would be.**

**Fenerath: Sorry about that. It is impossible, and I fixed that particular instance. It shouldn't happen again. Also, with the magic ranking, this is the ranking system that Rin said the Clock Tower gives to its apprentice magi. **

**Thanks for everyone who followed, favorited, reviewed and criticized! As of May 12, 2015, this story has 332 followers, 250 favorite (woot), 15,224 views, 6966 visitors and has been included in 3 communities! You guys are amazing! I'll see you next time on Remnant of Cursed Paradise, and happy reading!**


	7. Bloodletting

**Hello everyone, and welcome back! There's only one thing to mention up here, and that's about how people copy reviews. Names will be posted below, but _please_, if you want to write an honest, critical review, then pick out the inconsistencies yourself and type it up in your own format instead of copy/pasting other peoples'. Not only is it rude to the person writing the review in the first place, it's rude to the writer who now has two people saying the exact same thing on something they already know they need to fix in the future. **

**[/endrant]**

**Anyway, that's it up here. Please, go ahead with the story and enjoy!**

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**Chapter 7: Bloodletting**

The airport was crowded on the day of admission. Kids ranging from thirteen to twenty, in all manners of clothing, stormed the waiting areas, clustering into groups of four or five and chatting away the whiles. I was content with simply looking through one of my journals detailing a few weapons from Unlimited Blade Works. As I reviewed the destructive capabilities of a Broken Rhongomyniad, I heard a shuffling sound coming to my right. I peeked over the book, curious.

A girl about my age was sitting next to me, looking extremely uncomfortable with the noise and commingling around her. She had black hair that was stained with a red tint, and a frilly lolita-style skirt and lace-up blouse that reminded me far too much of Ilya's homunculus servants, Sella and Leysritt. There was a red package next to her luggage which I assumed held her weapon.

The silence dragged on between us, almost uncomfortably so. I bore it the best I could, and thankfully the girl was the first to break it. "I'm Ruby," she began, then cut herself off. I gestured for her to go on. "Ruby Rose. It's... it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Jaune Arc," I replied, stowing my book back in my carry-on. "You here for Beacon too?"

Ruby nodded, looking relieved that she had finally found someone to talk to. "You're a little young, though," she said. I raised an eyebrow, and the irony of the words washed over her like a waterfall. "I didn't mean it like you were incompetent or anything," she hurriedly continued. "I'm sure you're even better than I am, not that I'm a bad fighter or anything!"

My eyebrows didn't stray from their resting place high on my forehead, and she let out a defeated sigh, burying her face in her hands. "I'm no good at this."

I winced. Ruby was obviously socially awkward to the extreme, almost like Sakura but with a lot more frustration and a lot less timidity. I gave her shoulder a light rub, and she glanced at me, startled. "Relax," I coached. "Don't think about whatever's stressing you. Find something else to focus on. I know, why don't you tell me about your weapon?" I glanced at the bag holding it, my Structural Analysis telling me that it was made entirely of silk, mahogany and velvet. Something encased in what amounted to a hundred thousand yen had to be worth at least as much, and quality increased with the price.

I must have hit a switch or something, because the moment I finished my sentence Ruby's eyes sparked with a passion I have rarely seen. She snatched her bag up and opened it with one dextrous move. Even as she started explaining to me the qualities of its creation, I Analyzed it and stored it in Unlimited Blade Works.

It was incredible. There was no other way to describe it; it was of a quality several times higher than anything I'd seen so far, apart from maybe Ozpin's cane. The entire thing was comprised of one hundred and twenty pieces of interlocking metal and plastic, folded into a rectangle about the size of my torso. It was mostly red, although there were a few black pieces as well. The rectangle was nothing but a gun, albeit a very powerful and accurate gun. It unfolded to one of the rarest weapons I'd ever come across: a scythe. The weapon, Crescent Rose, had retractable blades embedded into the vermillion steel, each one worth about as much as a regular sword. Its design allowed it to shoot even in its scythe mode, a setting that would undoubtedly be useful. Overall, it must have cost as much as a small house, but with such a powerful and versatile weapon, it was well worth it. It almost made me feel bad copying its design and storing it into Unlimited Blade Works. Whoever made this thing was an incredible smith. I pushed the analysis even deeper.

No way.

Ruby had made it herself. That was a feat unto its own, forging such a weapon without being specifically apprenticed to a blacksmith , but such a high quality scythe? That bordered on the edge of the absurd. Nevertheless, here it was, cut into Crescent Rose's existence like a message etched in stone. Its creator was Ruby Rose, and its current wielder was Ruby Rose.

I came out of my analysis just as Ruby finishers her own explanation. "A truly magnificent weapon," I said. Ruby flushed with the praise. "Even more impressive that you managed to create it yourself. You must be incredibly proud of it."

If anything, Ruby's flush turned a few shades deeper, and a spark of pride and embarrassment flickered in her eyes. "Th-thanks," she stuttered out. She must not have been used to a lot of praise, but why? That kind of craftsmanship would only be matched by the best and brightest blacksmiths on my world and the creators of Noble Phantasms. If that was considered only adequate work this world, I'd love to see the finest that Huntsmen and Huntresses had to offer. "Anyways!" Ruby exclaimed, eager to get off the subject of my accolades. "What about your weapons? If you're attending Beacon, then you must have some pretty good gear, right?

I shrugged and casually activated a Circuit. The exuding prana followed my attempts at Tracing and formed into Kanshou and Bakuya. I gave the swords a small twirl as I pulled them out from behind my back and handed them off to Ruby for inspection. "They may not be as high-tech as some of the things I've seen so far, but I have these two and a few others. Be careful, though, because they're especially sharp right now."

Ruby nodded and gingerly held the hilts, observing the steel with a keen and knowing eye. As she did so, I made sure nobody was looking at us, chanted a small Aria that would weave a compulsion to ignore us (it still irritated me that what would have been a Single Action to a normal Magus required a five-line Aria and about four times as much prana for me), and Traced another set of weapons. EMIYA's bow flared to life in one hand' while Gae Bolg appeared in the other. I'd decided just the day before that as the weapons that I was most familiar with, those three would be my main weapons at Beacon for the duration of my stay. I would probably change it up as time went on and my Tracing skills were eventually revealed to my peers (because with my Luck stat, it would be bound to happen eventually), since it was my goal to become at least proficient with all the weapons in Unlimited Blade Works, but for the first few months at least, Kanshou and Bakuya would be my go-to for close-range fighting, Gae Bolg would be used in battles where both close-quarters and long-range were acceptable, and EMIYA's bow would function as my official long-range and sniping tool.

When fifteen minutes had passed, our flight was almost ready to board and Ruby had finished examining my weapons of choice. There were practically stars in her eyes when she turned back to me. "Can you tell me who made these?" she asked. "Whoever they were, they had some incredible talent for smithing! I don't think I've ever seen such finely made swords, and even though the spear is a completely different style than the bow and the swords, it was still made perfectly balanced and sharp enough to cut a falling feather!"

"Actually, I made them," I admitted. I hadn't told her exactly how I'd made them, and in a way, it helped to cover my Tracing until the time came to reveal it. If I ever needed to back up my claims, I could always just copy the skills of the blacksmiths that forged Kanshou and Bakuya. There wasn't a lot my Tracing couldn't do, and while it made me feel even more like a Faker, it was dead useful.

A cool, smooth female voice piped up over the waiting area's loudspeaker. "Attention to all Beacon Academy students," it announced. "Your airship is ready for boarding. Will you please collect your possessions and proceed to the boarding platform?"I smiled at Ruby and stood. I was already prepared for the flight; all of my weapons shattered into notes of light behind her back and I popped two sickness pills, then undid the Bounded Field around us and escorted Ruby to the airship. The two of us eased into gradual conversation as we neared the ship.

Ruby was in the middle of explaining the purposes of more complex Dust crystals to me when a near-deafening shout emanated from somewhere to my right. I managed to stop myself from crying out, but inwardly I cursed. I accidentally left my Circuit on, and with nowhere for the prana to go, it simply went into Reinforcing my body and my senses. I hadn't even noticed my vision sharpening twofold as I walked and talked with the Little Red Riding Hood. Even as I lowered my senses to an appropriate level, a yellow and black blur tackled Ruby from behind. I was half-ready to Trace a sword and behead the thing, but surprises had met me at every turn in this world, so I decided to take a chance and pay more attention than usual to what I would possibly be maiming.

I was glad I did, because the creature I might have killed was a teenage girl.

She was more of a young woman, really, but I stuck with teenager anyway. She was blond, with tangled, curly hair that led all the way down to the small of her back. Her face was half-hidden by Ruby's flailing form, but from what I could see, she had a heart-shaped face, violet eyes with the faintest hint of pink layered behind them, and sharply angled features, She was dressed provocatively, with a halter top that just barely managed to contain her assets and a pair of golden bracelets around her wrists. Her shorts were black, giving way to muscular leg, and...

Was that a buttcape?

Before I could think upon the... interesting fashion choice further, Ruby spun her body around and broke free of the hold. She jumped behind me. "Save me from the darkness, Jaune!" she cried.

I tensed. This girl wasn't any more dangerous than a normal Beacon student, and with Unlimited Blade Works I was several steps ahead of a first-year, probably on par with a second when Jaune's birthday would hit and the Curse would degenerate. If she was attacking Ruby, though, what did that signify?

"Aw, come on Ruby!" The girl complained. She stood and brushed a few flecks of dirt off her clothes. "Is that any way to greet your older sister? And who's the redhead you're hiding behind?"

Or it could be an exuberant older sister. Hell, Taiga acted exactly like that, almost to the point where it was scary. Of course, there wasn't any verbal exchange so it was harder to spot, but when I looked back I realized there wasn't any killing intent behind the tackle, just affection and mirth.

Ruby's sister looked at me expectantly. "Jaune Arc Emiya," I introduced. I held out a hand, which she shook vigorously. Her grip was strong, and the callouses on her knuckles indicated that she was a decent fist fighter. A small smile lit her face.

"Yang Xiaolong," she said. "It's always a pleasure meeting one of Ruby's cute little friends. What are you doing here, though? The ship for Signal already left. What, you're hoping to sneak into Beacon? Just give up now. Better people than you have tried."

I smirked. "Actually, I'm attending Beacon just like the two of you." Yang made a small noise in the back of her throat, like she didn't believe me, while Ruby's face brightened considerably. "It might come as a surprise to you, but I'm actually here on special recommendation from the Headmaster."

"You too?" Ruby asked, surprise and the slightest hint of doubt crossing her features. "But I thought Ozpin said I was the only one moved ahead so far..."

Ah, that was it. "You probably were," I said. "I didn't go to a training school, mostly because I failed the academic portions. Instead I just studied and trained at home for the four years I would have been in school. I don't know how much I match up to some of the students here, but I should be good enough to hold my own."

"We'll see about that," Yang muttered halfheartedly. She still didn't look like she believed me. I watched the clouds fall away from us as we reached past the line of white vapor gilding the sky. Above us, the sun shone against the window, refracting into multicolored light that laid across my body like a rainbow sash. It was really a shame that Jaune had air sickness; I'd only been on a plane once, and that was when I was unconscious from the aftermath of the Fire and they were airlifting me to a Tokyo hospital. The sky really was brilliant. Hmm... maybe a fighter jet or an airship counted as a weapon?

* * *

The ride took too long for comfort. I swallowed down another pair of pills and waited for Avalon to kick start their effects. As the pain in my head and stomach gradually subsided, I pulled a strand of hair from my head. It wasn't very long, only an inch or two at most, but it was a shade redder than it had been that morning at the airport. Now it was an almost uniform, but at least very light, orange, slowly browning and turning the auburn I was familiar with. Soon enough, not even the Arcs would be able to recognize me, especially not if my bone structure changed as well as my hair and eyes. There was a tiny strand of white just above my left temple as well. Even in this world where the rules were fundamentally different but still alarmingly similar, Projection still had a price. My liberal use of it wasn't helping, but it was my most powerful and versatile weapon, and the only one I could use really well. I wanted to bring a few of my regular weapons instead of using the Noble Phantasms, but nothing I could find was close to the strength of weaponry that gunblade or Ruby's scythe. Hell, my Traced Phantasms only just exceeded their creation quality, and even though most of my weapons were ranked down one automatically, the forging quality of their work was far too close for my liking. To be honest, I couldn't wait to try out Crescent Rose. Exceeding all of its manufacturing processes would create an absurdly powerful weapon, probably on par with a rank C Noble Phantasm and able to take a few hits from a rank B before breaking. If someone loaded that sniper rifle with Dust rounds, as well?

Utter carnage.

I looked over at Ruby and Yang. The younger of the two was leaning her head back against the seat rest, listening intently to her sister's ramblings. Yang's hands were waving excitedly through the air, apparently describing a battle between her and another person. Out of sheer lack of something to do, I Analyzed the bracelets at her wrists. They were weapons as well, but not my style. I was never much of a fist fighter, but if I needed surprise against an enemy then I could always bring those out. Her gauntlets had tiny barrels protruding from the plates that acted as tiny shotguns. All it would take would be a single punch followed by a pull of the trigger, and someone would have a gaping hole in their abdomen.

"Hey, are you okay?" I shook myself out of my thoughts when Ruby's face appeared in front of mine, seeming worried. I nodded, and she backed away, smiling. Her eyes were interesting. I hadn't noticed before, but they were silver, like two pools of mercury, mirroring the things she saw. I could see my own reflection in those eyes. I looked older than Jaune first did, more experienced and wizened. There was still a trace of Jaune in there, some small hint of ardent naivete, but it was mostly just the boy who had become a man through a Holy Grail War. Ruby blushed, breaking the spell. "Is there something on my face?"

I shook my head. I tried to avoid those quicksilver eyes, their depths still reaching for my attention. "You have beautiful eyes, you know," I told her. "Like mirrors."

Ruby turned an even brighter shade of red and stuttered a small, "th-th-thank you," before turning away and quivering. Yang looked torn between giving me a death glare and whistling in amusement. In the end, she did both, humming out an unfamiliar tune that sounded suspiciously like a nursery rhyme while glowering at me, her violet eyes smoldering with furious heat. A shiver ran up my spine, and for just a split-second, Rin's face superimposed itself over Yang's.

Did I say something wrong?

Before I could ask (and probably get the stuffing beaten out of me), a sharp voice snapped through the announcement system. I recognized it vaguely as Glynda Goodwitch. "Attention, students,"she began. "I'd like to ask you to seat yourselves once again. We will be ending our final descent in a moment."

I pulled my seat belt back on, not that I'd needed to take it off in the first place. It was simply a liability in case a hormonal, angry teenager got into a fight.

The landing was by far the worst part. My stomach was only just beginning to get used to the flight patterns and light turbulence, but the moment we broke an even altitude my stomach gave another lurch and I had to jam my fist in my mouth to keep from vomiting. I tentatively activated the Avalon, careful not to let too much prana through. During my Analysis of everyone's weaponry, I'd glanced at the airship. Unlimited Blade Works hadn't recorded it, so it wasn't unfortunately considered a weapon, but I'd still gotten quite a lot of information from it, including Aura Detectors in every compartment of the seating area. The airship thrashed for another agonizing moment, then went still. I let the lancing pains fade from my stomach. It hurt. It hurt a lot. Even so, it was nothing compared to the Fire, or Angra Mainyu, or even Lancer's Gae Bolg. I swallowed the pain, taking note of Ruby's mildly concerned face. "I'm fine," I managed to grind out. "Just a little air sickness. It'll pass when I get off the airship."

I tried to stand, but the pain redoubled and my legs almost gave out on me. Ruby looped an arm under my own, supporting me. We left the ship together. Almost as an afterthought, I grabbed my two carry-on, the paintings and drawings jostling heavily within them. When my feet touched the perched steel hanging precariously on the edge of the cliff, the feeling returned in my inner organs, and Ruby released me. "Thanks," I panted. She nodded and gave my back a tentative rub. Her skin was cool, even through my shirt and Traced black body armor.

We stood. Yang was in the distance, walking away with a few assorted men and women of the same age. Ruby groaned. "And there she goes," she muttered snidely. "Can I stick with you until orientation, Jaune ?"

I nodded. Why not? Ruby was a nice girl, and she had a good sense of humor, even if she was a little snarky. I honestly thought of her as a friend, not just an ally. She was my first one since Martin and Tabitha, and the first friend I'd made here in my age group period.

As a person, Ruby was fairly easy to categorize. She was a typical naive teenager, one that would take unnecessary risks in a dangerous situations. She was bright most of the time, a bit airheaded, and definitely talented as a fighter. Even just by looking at her eyes once, I could tell that she didn't really understand what she was going to do at Beacon. She was there on a whim, a fancy that engulfed a young child as a wistful, ephemeral dream. She didn't want to kill Grimm, she wanted to be a hero, just like I wanted to be. The thing is, I had learned what Archer was trying to tell me. She hadn't learned that yet.

We both had the same goal, but one of us couldn't see it through to the end. Which one, I had no clue. I didn't know what was going to win over, her naivete or my determination. Because in the end, we both walked the same path. Just because Archer saved the most lives that were affordable didn't mean I couldn't do something different.

It was with that thought that I first stepped onto Beacon Academy's campus.

* * *

Beacon was beautiful, a true diamond in the rough. When I'd stepped away from the libraries after learning about the hordes of Grimm that overtook the planet, I expected the few human populations to be mistrustful and militarized, ready to take on the threats to their homeland without mercy. Instead, the civilians were carefree and, for the most part, acted just like the casual humans in my world would. They weren't violent savages or military drones, but simple people. They didn't have a reason to fear, because Huntsmen and Huntresses protected them. With that in mind, I still expected the average city to be small.

No, instead Vale was bustling with life, almost the size of Tokyo itself. The architecture was some intricate cross between Victorian ramshackle and urban sprawl. I was surprised at the low height of the buildings. With the Grimm infestation, there was only a limited amount of space allotted for the architects to use, but it that time, it seemed that the warriors of this world had pushed the Grimm back several miles. A civilization with its back against the wall built up, while a civilization with its swords at the ready built out. It was one of the key tenets of establishing an empire. Tall buildings were always newer, signs that an empire had complete control over an area and built monuments to the empire's greatness there.

I blinked. The information hadn't come from me, but rather Archer; the memories of the Counter Guardian's conversations and eventual battle with the great Conqueror Iskander in some distorted timeline zipping through my head.

Beacon Academy was tall, taller than any of the buildings below us at the base of the waterfall. It appeared to be a castle, but the architecture was off and there was no feasible way to defend the building against an attack. Then again, there wasn't much need to, since Beacon was built on a plateau that stretched more than a half mile into the sky. White marble comprised almost all of its construction, almost pristine. In the tallest tower were a series of orbs that glowed a brilliant green, even in daylight. Despite my instincts' assurances that we were safe for the moment, I still couldn't help but plan out the possibility of danger. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that eventually a Grimm would come along that could fly, and Beacon didn't have any visible defense mechanisms, aside from the students.

I shook myself once again. I got lost in thought all too often. I would need to rectify that.

Ruby hummed a bright tune as she walked alongside me, her shorter legs being forced to take longer strides to compensate for my long steps. She didn't have a care in the world, and neither did any of the other first years that I could see. There was a girl walking by us, with a huge amount of luggage. Ruby walked directly into the trolley, falling over with a puff of breath and a surprised cry as she was buried by suitcases.

"You idiot, what do you think you're doing?" The girl stormed up to Ruby, icy blue eyes ablaze with anger. Her hair was white, almost as white as Archer's had been, and she was wearing something so outlandishly impractical for combat I almost laughed. A white bolero jacket, lined with red, was draped across her shoulder. Underneath that was a white blouse with a small black fan threaded onto the cleavage. The hems and sleeves of her attire were ornate and decorated with miniscule opals and diamonds arrayed in an outward arc. Her skirt was light and airy, not exactly flowing with the breeze but not exactly staying subject to gravity either. It almost looked starched into place, like a ballerina's tutu. White high heels adorned her feet.

Overall, she was a very impractical person. She would have been better off with a hakama, gi and haori. They were much more practical, and had their beauties as well. The girl in front of me may as well have been a yuki-onna anyway. Her snowy white hair, alabaster skin and pale eyes only augmented her beauty.

"Are you alright, Ruby?" I asked. As I stooped down to help Ruby up, I took a glance at her weapon.

[**Resonance of Steel**].

That was the first thing I noted about the blade. It wasn't old; on the contrary, it was only a few years old, almost never used. Despite that, the quality of the sword and [**Resonance of Steel**] were through the roof. The sword could feel. Not like a human could, of course, but its emotions were strong and pulsing.

It was a rapier, but instead of the slightly flexible steel I'd come to recognize as being normal for rapiers, the blade was ramrod straight and jutted upwards in a smoothly angled white spike. The guard wasn't a guard, but a barrel, each of its six chambers filled to the brim with a different shade of Dust. There were slots inside the steel that allowed the Dust to temporarily react to the steel, empowering it beyond all normal measures. The crosspiece spidered over the barrel with indefinite grace.

Even as its copy was stored inside Unlimited Blade Works, its emotions bled into me. Pain spiked through every part of my body, not enough to cause damage or hinder my movement, but I knew that was only a shadow of what the rapier, Myrtenaster, felt. It had such a sad, beautiful name. It was hurting, for both its wielder and itself. I could see the agony in its memory, the pain of enduring the burning grip of an ignorant and arrogant master and the internal hell of withstanding each injection of Dust.

This sword was not where it should have been. It didn't know a caring master, one that would hold it in regards to its intelligence.

The girl was going off on a tirade when I refocused on her. Ruby was hiding behind my back as I withstood the verbal assault. "That sword..." I found myself mumbling.

She stopped, utterly confused by the change of subject. "What?" was her brilliant response.

My eyes narrowed. A warm feeling bloomed in my chest. Anger, that was it. "That sword..." I repeated. "It hates you. It hurts when you hold it. Don't carry that sword for another day. Let it die."

Myrtenaster screamed its agreement at its master, begging to just burn and melt in a conflagration of welcoming flames. It went utterly unheard by the girl, who puffed up in indignation. She drew Myrtenaster, and its cries magnified tenfold. The pain burned and scalded and tore and ripped, it hurt it hurt **it hurt_ it hurt_**-

"What do you think you're doing?" A voice, sharp and clear as a shard of glass interrupted what I was sure to be another seizure. I'd only had two before, both in relation to my Magecraft. The first was when Archer's arm assimilated with me, the second when I had tried to copy Ea. Unlimited Blade Works came to an abrupt halt, and as feeling returned to my body I felt my hands clutching my hair. My vision swam, but I could see a green and grey figure approaching us swiftly.

"Ozpin..." I croaked. There was a prick in my abdomen as I tried to regain my balance, and I realized with a start that Myrtenaster's point was pressed gingerly against the scarred skin of my solar plexus. I pulled its point up with the tip of a finger. The sword reacted, its pain practically melting away at my touch. I was confused at first, but then I realized it was responding to me. The Codex had listed one of my abilities as the [**Love of Swords**] that, at A rank, would allow me to instantly sympathize and earn favor with all sentient swords. Myrtenaster was obviously one of those few sentients.

"Miss Schnee, I would suggest you take your blade away from... Jaune's ribs now," Ozpin continued. His tone wasn't any different, nor was the volume of his voice, but the look of deadly ferocity on his face caused the girl to shrink and almost instantly sheath Myrtenaster. "An act of violence like that will not be tolerated at this school, no matter what you are used to."

"But sir!" she cried. Most of the students had filtered away towards the auditorium, but the few who had stayed were watching with wide-eyed apprehension. "He's just insulted my swordsmanship."

"It hurts, Ozpin," I cut off. I couldn't tell what made me speak, but something inside me did. Ruby looked at me, worried, as she supported my side. My legs were trembling, not in fear or excitement, but feverous pain. Even as Myrtenaster retracted from my grip, it called out for me, and I took as much of its pain as I could without collapsing. "Myrtenaster, it... it hurts. She burns it, brands it. That Dust..." I could suppress the pain as well as any Enforcer, even without Unlimited Blade Works deployed inside me, but this time even I couldn't help but shiver as a new lance of agony swept over Myrtenaster's form. The Schnee girl was holding it by its hilt.

"Let's get you to the infirmary, Jaune ," Ruby whispered. I cursed inwardly. I reached out to Myrtenaster, promised it that I would shoulder some of its pain later. It reluctantly agreed. As I retracted, I could feel its last emotion: hope.

* * *

Myrtenaster hurt. Normally the brands of pain from her false master would tear into her steel skin and metal flesh like a knife through warm butter, setting her nonexistent nerves on fire. This time, however, it merely hurt. Why?

Because of the human standing across from her false master. She couldn't describe him. He was warm, so bright and warm, not like the blazing heat that scalded her every time the Schnee daughter gripped her. That warmth didn't aggravate the pain, it washed it away like the cool waters of the ocean she'd once felt. He was wreathed in that warmth, that soothing, phantasmal light. She wanted the pain to flee, to run towards this man.

Shirou Emiya.

She hadn't known of his existence before that moment, but the name resonated within her like the ringing strike of a hammer. This man held the innate right to wield any sword he chose to. That was the essence of the [**Love of Swords**].

Every sentient sword knew of that ability. It was instinctual, ingrained into their very beings along with the [**Resonance of Steel**]. Shirou Emiya was a natural sword inside a human's body. He was sharp. In other ways, however, he was a shield. He was Distorted, fighting only to protect those who needed it and taking no care of his own life.

Myrtenaster would allow, just this once, for a stranger to wield her. She kneeled to Shirou Emiya, and he to her. Myrtenaster, the sword of the Schnees for eight-and-twenty generations rejected her false master and found a new one in Shirou Emiya. No longer did the Schnee's touch bite into her grip like an agonizing whip. Instead, it merely hurt.

Because Myrtenaster was willing to wait and return to her true master.

* * *

**Alrighty, that wraps that up! I already know people are going to go off about Jaune's age and entering Beacon at the same time as the normal plot begins in RWBY, but we never actually see Jaune's age in the show. He forges his documents, so for all we know the teachers think that he's seventeen while he could be eighteen, or sixteen. I'm personally leaning towards the side of sixteen, mostly due to personal knowledge on forgery at that age. Then again, he's so tall he could be considered eighteen...**

**But I digress. Let's get to reviews!**

**Anonimus &amp; Guest: Alright, one of you is bullshitting me right now. I'm going to assume it's Guest, since Anonimus was the first one to put up this list of criticisms, but if you don't have the patience to write anything out on your own, then don't copy other peoples' reviews. As for the review itself, I'll admit I'm not the best writer in the world, and my longer plots tend to start off this way. Rest assured this will be revised and cleaned up more after I've finished it, and I'll be taking everything you said here into account when I do. The only thing I've noticed about this is the written diary, which he's taken with him to Beacon as part of his hodge-podge Workshop, so there's no chance of Jaune's parents finding out.**

**Symphonius: Rin's jewels vary a lot in power, so I'm assuming she can make ones that are far stronger than Roman's normal shots. Then again, Roman can change the amount of power that goes into his blasts, so maybe the two would cancel out? As for the appearance thing, I would attribute that to Avalon being accustomed to Shirou's actual body and "fixing" him so that he resembles his old self without doing it so fast as to cause him serious damage.**

**Erdrick117: Thanks for reviewing! Firstly, Shirou hasn't activated his Aura in the way that most other Huntsmen and Huntresses would. Rather, he's pushing it around with his prana to try and get it to move more like prana does. Secondly, Shirou's Circuits will overload sometimes and fuck him up. There's one particular instance I can recall from a few chapters ahead... As for your third question, Shirou's current age is sixteen, a year older than Ruby but a year younger than everyone else. For this reason, see my explanation above.**

**lukefang: That'd be awkward, wouldn't it? *evil laughter***

**MEleeSmasher: Can't say anything determinate on this, but Shirou's probably going to end up spilling the beans, if only to make things easier for himself (and me, as the writer) in the future.**


	8. First Moon

**Chapter 8: First Moon**

I stumbled into a bed, as the tenuous connection between Myrtenaster and I faded. That... that had been entirely unexpected. I was able to sympathize with many swords, and I knew of several swordsmen that treated their sentient blades with disdain, but that...

I collapsed onto the thin mattress as an old man came bustling through a door to my right. "Damn you, you lousy little bastard," he roared to Ozpin. Ruby and I both flinched. "I've already got one of those brats in here! What did you do this time?"

"If you could calm down and check him, I would appreciate it, Cander," Ozpin snapped. I frowned; I'd never heard him take a tone of irritation with someone before. This Cander seemed used to it, though, and he immediately grasped my wrist, feeling for the vein.

"Hmm... Blood pressure and heart rate are average," he muttered. He waved a hand, and a shimmering green cloud of light erupted from his robes. It poked and prodded at my skin, and I could feel tiny traces of Aura being injected into me. The wisps were immediately rejected by my prana flow, still active after connecting to Myrtenaster.

"Yes, yes, everything seems alright." The man's voice was growing increasingly irritated. "What's wrong with you, boy? I can feel it! There's something not right with you, but I can't for the life of me figure out what the hell it is! That's enough, dammit!"

The green cloud retracted from me, thoroughly cowed by the man's furious roars. While he wrestled with the cloud, trying to return it to his sleeve, Ozpin turned to Ruby. "It would be best if you returned to the auditorium, Miss Rose," he said. His voice had returned to its serene nature. "I think we will be fine here, and I would not like for more than one of my students to miss their first briefing."

Ruby bit her lip, glancing between me and the door. I held up a hand and waved her off. "Go," I said. "Find your sister and hang out with her for a while. I'll be out in a bit, promise."

With a final, frustrated sigh, Ruby stalked towards the door and slammed it shut. I raised a querying eyebrow at Cander, who was still trying to force his Aura cloud into the sleeve of his robe.

"Now, Jaune... but you're not Jaune, are you?" Ozpin's voice was mercilessly calm, almost glacial in its stillness. "Explain what happened, and we'll go from there."

Even to me, my laugh and aversion seemed forced. "Wh-what do you mean, sir?"

"Despite what you might think after my first introduction," Ozpin explained, a hint of ice sharding in his voice, "I have met Jaune Arc twice before. After my second visit, he should have been old enough to remember me. In addition to that, you don't act enough like a clumsy, well-meaning boy who wasn't trained to fight in the slightest. You've seen real combat, and I don't mean the brief scuffle you had with one of my dear rivals in Marte. I can see it in your expression even now; you're ready to duck for cover at the slightest hint of aggression, with your tensed legs and clenched fists." I forced myself to relax a bit. "Not to mention the sudden, if not subtle change in your appearance. Jeanne and Gillian might not want to accept the fact that their son is gone, but I have no such qualms. You are not Jaune Arc. Now spill."

I did. I told him of what had happened with Myrtenaster, its Resonance of Steel, its agonies. From there, I backtracked my entire story, starting from the moment Kiritsugu found me in the midst of an inferno, to the Grail War, to my battle with Gilgamesh and finally my arrival on Remnant. When I was done, Ozpin leaned back, contemplation clearly written on his face. Cander had left a while ago, his now-subdued Aura cloud in tow. With a sigh, Ozpin rested a hand on his forehead and closed his eyes.

"This... is an interesting development," he finally admitted. "And not in a good way. You're telling me Jaune was consumed by your soul's mere presence?"

"It looks that way," I confirmed. "There isn't a trace of him left in this body except for his Aura. My Circuits were his once, too, or maybe some of his Aura was converted to Circuits. I don't know. I've only met two people with the potential for Magecraft in this world, and neither of them have inborn Circuits like Jaune did."

"You realize you're placing me in a very precarious situation, Shirou?" he asked. "If Gillian and Jeanne find out about this, you'll be hunted by more than just them. Jaune has sisters, seven of them, and they're all fairly strong, not to mention the Arcs' many family friends. It is my job to protect you, now that you're enrolled, and while I could fight all nine of the Arc family, it would place me near exhaustion, and I would have to kill them to deter them from claiming your life. There are numerous other factors, as well. If this curse is real, and it dissipates at age seventeen, then you will have the full abilities of a weaker Servant, correct?"

"Only under certain circumstances, but yes, that is the general summary. Why do you ask?"

Ozpin rubbed the bridge of his nose and shot me a bleak look. "If the board of governors sees that you're leagues ahead of your classmates, they will want to place you in a higher year to even out the ranks. You're already causing a stir with Miss Rose by being the youngest official Beacon student in living memory, and many of the students will take extreme offense at having their abilities insulted by a sixteen year old boy. At the same time, however we can't keep you in first year, because you'd steamroll every other student."

I could tone down my abilities," I offered. "I wasn't planning on using any of my Noble Phantasms' effects on the student body anyway. Most of these are designed to kill, especially Gae Bolg. By fighting a bit off from my true abilities, I can successfully hide away in the first year's class rankings. I'll still be near the top, though. I can only fight at a certain level before it begins to be insulting to my opponent."

Ozpin deliberated on the problem for several minutes, folding his hands together and resting his forehead on his knuckles. While he was doing that, I glanced out of the window next to the hospital bed. The walkway towards the main gates of the school was teeming with students, old and new alike. I tried spying for a telltale figure of red, finding it sitting alone on the edge of one of the pools lining the path. Ruby dangled her feet just inches above the water, leaning down to splash the mirror smooth surface with a bare foot. I watched her head slowly tilt upwards until she was staring directly at my window. The glass was tinted from the outside, so she couldn't see my face, but she still gave the glass a wondering look before returning her gaze to the water below her. I felt bad, not just for keeping my abilities from her, but also for shoving her away in my near-seizure during the Myrtenaster incident.

"I've reached a decision," Ozpin commented. I turned my attention back towards him. "There isn't much I can do if the board of governors decides to truly involves themselves, but for now I can allow you to fight as a first year. You'll have to restrain your power to the best of your abilities. Can you do it?"

"I'll have to start Tracing eventually," I muttered. "But yes, that will work. Once I am above the first year, we can talk about revealing my true ability."

Ozpin smiled slightly. "I am glad we've reached an agreement," he said honestly. "Now, you've already missed orientation, so I'll give you the briefing. The classrooms are located in the west wing, the training areas in the east, and the living areas are located in the south. There are several maps placed throughout the Academy in case someone should get lost. For tonight, you will be sleeping in the main ballroom with the rest of the first year students. I don't want any fighting, understood?"

"Got it," I affirmed. "I'll be taking my leave before that... medic returns."

Ozpin laughed. "Cander is quite mad, and he has a terrible temper, but there is no better medic in all of Vytal, and possibly all the world. The only reason we still tolerate him is because he has a perfect healing rate for his patients. Not a single one, from disease to battle wound to mental illness, of his patients has died or relapsed. Even I have begun to revere him in my various superstitions about this world."

A perfect healing rate, huh? I was fairly sure that if Avalon had a physical form, it would hotly contest that claim as the world's greatest healer. I could already feel the Scabbard's warm healing prana flowing through my Circuits, fixing the little damage that my seizure caused.

"I think I know somebody with an even better talent for healing than him," I told Ozpin. His face twitched, the only sign of his surprise, as I grinned mischievously at him.

I stopped at the door and gave Ozpin a contemplative look. "Sir," I began, not quite sure how to phrase my question. "Why..."

"Why am I assisting you in this farce, you ask?" he countered immediately, and I nodded. "To be honest, I'm not quite sure myself. The Arcs are decent acquaintances of mine. One could almost call them my friends if it weren't for the emotional attachments I've had to forsake to continue my occupation. Honor is a part of it; It is my duty to teach you everything you need to know about the outside world and protect you until you are ready to do so, and that includes protecting you from Jaune's parents. If you die, however... well, at least they won't have to grieve you as well."

I shivered at his tone and hurried out the door.

* * *

As Ozpin promised, my bags were waiting for me in a corner of the main ballroom. I grabbed the one that held my clothing and quickly stripped into a pair of hakama pants. Pajamas were never really my style, and the samurai clothing was honestly a lot more comfortable that the sleepwear of this world, which didn't have the warm flannel I was used to.

I didn't get any strange looks as I stepped out of the corner, shirtless, so that was good. My scars tingled uncomfortably, but I resolutely ignored it. That mark would get its time in my dreams tonight. Without any red to identify her, I had a harder time finding Ruby. When I did catch up to her, she was laying across a pillow, writing something in a diary printed with a Beowolf on the front. I sat next to her. She didn't even acknowledge my presence, so I relaxed and waited until she was finished. After a few minutes she looked up. My eyes met hers, and she tackled me with a startled gasp.

"Are you alright?" were the first words out of her mouth. Her arms clamped around my ribs tightly, almost hard enough to crack a normal human's. I winced and a gave her back a light rub.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I told her, gently wresting her arms away from my bruised torso. She seemed to realize she was crushing me, because she pulled away, a faint scarlet staining her cream-white cheeks. "It was... well, it was a one-time thing. I don't think it'll happen again."

She glared at me, like I was lying or something. "So, do you want to tell me what that aneurism was all about?" There was a glint of hurt and worry in her eyes, but it was largely overshadowed by the anger simmering in those mirror like orbs. I forced myself to look away once again. Seriously, did she have a hypnosis Circle on those things or something?

"Well..." I tried to think up an excuse for... that. It was getting steadily harder to focus, too, because Myrtenaster's exuding pain was drawing ever nearer, like a snake about to strike. I smiled, the perfect excuse on my mind. "Let's just say that there is nobody in this world that understands swords like I do."

Ruby blinked, and I knew I had a succeeded in keeping my abilities secret. The trick was to give them just enough information to be truthful, but not nearly enough to let them figure it out. Ruby's eyes narrowed.

"Aw, come on!" she whined. "That wasn't nearly enough of an answer! At least tell me if you're hurt." She got very quiet then, like she was contemplating something. I met her eyes. This time they weren't the hypnotic pools they'd been before, but quicksilver drops that held a myriad of emotions, chiefly concern. "I don't like watching my friends get hurt, and you're really my only friend here."

Okay, that just wasn't playing fair. She was guilting me, and I think she was doing it on purpose. "Sorry Ruby," I muttered. I gave her a soft, sad smile. I really did want to tell her, but that would be giving away my biggest secrets, not only in front of other people but to somebody I didn't want getting hurt because of my actions. Myrtenaster was something I had to deal with, and nobody else. "I promise I'll tell you someday, just not today. Okay?"

Ruby's frown because more pronounced, but she eventually nodded. I exhaled. Had I done the right thing?

No, that didn't matter. The right thing wasn't always the thing that saved the most lives. I might not have done the right thing just then when I kept my powers a secret, but I would make it up to her eventually.

Myrtenaster's presence sharpened, and I once again reached out with my Love of Swords. I felt the sword's Resonance shrink from me at first, but after pouring a little more prana into the gesture Myrtenaster opened its proverbial floodgates to me. This time, the pain was only half of what it had been before. It hurt, but not in that agonizing way that broke and Distorted me during the Fire. It didn't tear at my thoughts, just wrapped around them and squeezed them tightly in a futile attempt to suffocate my mind. The blade was... happy. It wasn't happy that Schnee was with it, it was happy that I had come back.

It was a new experience for me. No sword had ever claimed me for its own. Avalon had, but it was a Conceptual Weapon, and therefore not sentient in the way swords could become. It was strangely comforting.

I shifted my thoughts from Myrtenaster and towards the moon. The moon was a huge part of Magecraft for a lot of people. After its defeat by the (at the time) ridiculously powerful Zelretch, the Aristotele of the moon, Brunestud, had taken it upon itself to travel the Earth for more than five centuries to learn as much Magecraft as possible. The Aristoteles, the Ultimate Ones, were undoubtedly powerful, but they didn't have much, if any, contact with Thaumaturgy before their contact with the Earth. Brunestud proved to be an incredible Magus in the legends. There was even a rumor that went around the Clock Tower that Brunestud had managed to master the unknown Fourth True Magic. If that was true, then Brunestud was undoubtedly the most powerful being in Gaia's influence, and could be considered the Aristotele for both the Earth and Moon.

Did Unlimited Blade Works actually count as a True Magic? The two requirements for an event to be considered a True Magic was that it had to be learned from the Swirl of the Root, and be utterly unique in that only one person could use it. It was the reason why Reality Marbles were an automatic Sealing Designation by the Magus Association: if you pulled off creating a Reality Marble, then you had already qualified for one half of the True Magic power. The only distinction between the two was that True Magic affected the world itself, while a Reality Marble closed off a section of the world, trapped it in a World Egg, and replaced the empty space with the user's own self. People who created Reality Marbles were considered by the Association to be too close to developing a True Magic already.

It was kind of ironic that the core tenet of the organization that bound pretty much every European Magus together was directly opposed to the goal that its members were trying to achieve. A glimpse of the idiocy of greedy humans, perhaps.

The cracked and broken moon fell away from my view as another small noise, this one of slight horror, etched itself into my ears. Yang was staring at me, or more specifically, my heart. The pinkish, rough-skinned scar itched as Yang's eyes roamed over it.

"Wha..." her voice was small, trembling with repressed pity and sympathy. "That scar... it runs all the way through..."

I grimaced. The itching doubled in volume, advancing to the tendrils that lanced out from the circular stab wound. "It's a very long story," I grumbled. The room suddenly became very awkward, and I had the strangest feeling that I was the cause of it.

"Anyway!" Yang cut into the thick silence like a cleaving blade. "Let's get off that subject, why don't we? So, what's your first impression of Beacon, Ruby? It's pretty cool, isn't it?"

Ruby shook her head, tearing her eyes off the star-like flesh on my heart and explaining her thoughts on Beacon's architecture and history. As she launched into a particularly detailed explanation of the events that caused the formation of a certain tower on the east wing, I took another look around. It was obvious that I was currently unwelcome in the presence of the sisters, so I stood and looked for another person to interact with.

There was a girl leaning against a back wall that unexplainedly caught my interest. She was wearing only a black bathrobe, something that brought whistles and staring eyes from the boys around her. She ignored it all, burying her head in a book and keeping it there, only ever leaning back to turn the pages. Her black hair ran around her like lustrous rivers, flowing over her shoulders and onto the wall. A pair of almost slitted amber eyes tracked each word across its line, their color attracting my eyes more than her body did. Admittedly, she had a nice figure, not quite as full as Yang's but more developed than Ruby's. Her eyes, however, were the same color of yellow as my old eyes, and deep like an ocean. I ignored the stares and glares from the people I was haphazardly passing. Eventually, I reached her, one of my half-full journals tucked under my elbow. She only glanced up briefly when I approached.

"May I?" I asked. She nodded wordlessly and scooted over a bit to make room for me. I pulled a pen from one of the pockets in my hakama. The candlelight made it a bit harder to read than if I had artificial light bulbs, but it was better than nothing. I pulled a few details from the Merodach in my Unlimited Blade Works and got started with listing its properties.

It was past midnight when I was finished with my analysis of Merodach. What had once been a few rudimentary traits of the sword had become a several-page-long study of its unique properties and the history behind the blade, hilt and crosspiece each. When I looked up, the vast majority of the students had fallen asleep, with only the black-haired girl, a few other students and me awake. I shoved a bit of prana into the dying candles to spurn them to life. The embers didn't disappoint, snapping against the cool night air with renewed vigor. The black haired girl glanced up at me. "I didn't think you were going to stop writing tonight," she said, a small hint of humor coloring her otherwise smooth and calm voice. "What is it?"

"I'm a sword researcher," I replied. "I've been researching the legends of famous swords in the area. There could very well be a real Cobaldeart hiding out somewhere in Vale. If I'm lucky enough, I'll be able to discover a lost relic of the past and make a change in the Grimm infestations."

The black haired girl frowned, a small line marring her red lips. "Chasing dreams only ends up hurting you in the end,"she commented shortly. I smiled at her.

"That may be true, but if it means I can help other people I'll gladly do it. There's a difference between doing something destructive while pursuing your dream and getting hurt for a cause. I fight to protect the people who can't protect themselves, and that's all there is to it. There aren't any excuses for people who have the power to help, but end up destroying instead. Fighting for your dreams... I think, in the end, that is the only way to see fantasies become reality."

The girl stared at me, but whether it was surprise or disbelief. I couldn't tell. After a good two minutes, she broke eye contact. "That's a stupid idea."

"Yeah, I've heard." I chuckled. How many times had Rin or Saber said that to me? "Still, it's a good thing to fight for."

"...Yeah," the girl whispered. "I'm Blake Belladonna."

"Jaune Arc. It's a pleasure to meet you." I shook a dainty hand, then turned my attention to the book in her hand. "So, what's it about?"

A tiny gleam sparked in Blake's eyes, and as she launched into a semi-detailed explanation on the plot and the characters, I smiled. It seemed that there were people other than random civilians that needed to be saved after all.

Blake fell asleep a few minutes after we both put down our books. I snuffed out the candle and pushed a pillow between her head and the wall. I was the only one awake at that point, and likely would be for the next several hours. The prana flowing through my body was mostly directed to my brain, increasing my cognitive abilities and, more importantly, keeping me wide awake. I'd been able to stay clear-minded for more than two days before the transfer between worlds, and now that I had such huge Circuits I could easily keep myself awake for twice that time. Over time, my body would gradually lose its effective reflexes; even Reinforcement had its limits, of course. Even so, fighting in the initiation ceremony tomorrow wouldn't be a problem.

I stepped around the various sleeping bodies. Once or twice, my toes tapped against a head, but other than that I was silent. I slipped out of a cracked window. The air was cold, cold enough to make me shiver in the dark. The cracked and pulverized moon reflected less light than the one on my world,

and it didn't have any of its own luminance. That moon must not have been a moon like mine after all.

A sharp glint in the distance caught my eye for the merest second, and I glanced down. There was a single, deep red eye glinting up at me from... somewhere. It was immediately replaced with blue, then a flash of gold, and I blinked myself back to reality. What had that been about?

I spent a few hours outside, enjoying the slowly cooling air on my skin. It was hot down on the Arcs' land, and in Fuyuki before the War ended as well. This change in temperature was a nice change in pace. It also distracted from the pricking sensation in my left arm and heart.

Like a snap, the serenity of the situation was broken by my arm and chest exploding with activity. The flurry of changes caught me by surprise, leaving me on my knees even before I registered the pain.

And oh gods, the pain.

It wasn't what I had experienced in those first, hellish moments of the Fuyuki Fire, but it came damn close. Archer's arm (or Jaune's arm; I wasn't quite sure what counted for what on this body) lengthened by a full ten centimeters, then shrunk and turned paler than snow again. It repeated this process several times, sometimes with minimal pain, other with lances of flashing agony when the bones didn't grow right and stabbed through my skin and arteries. My chest, meanwhile, wasn't doing any better. Sword after sword shot out of my sternum, abdomen and pectorals like snapping mantises. I recognized the first one; Caliburn. The second was a golden shortsword that had so many indentations and grooves in it I wasn't quite sure what its purpose was without any Structural Analysis. Blood splattered across the terrace in rivulets of alternating crimson, black and gold.

"Hyack!" I gurgled involuntarily. Blood was seeping into my throat and out of my mouth now, and while I could feel Avalon trying its best to fix the damage it was being inflicted far faster than I was capable of healing.

The cluster of swords was reaching my stomach now, and my vision began to fade along with my thought processes. The heat was getting too strong at that point; it hurt to exist, never mind breathing.

"T-t-Trace... On," I gasped, throwing my intent straight into my traitorous Unlimited Blade Works for something that could heal me. Avalon appeared in my hands a fraction of a second later, humming to life immediately. I wasted no time in jabbing the butt of the sheath into the center of the sword cluster, touching the side to my arm at the same time.

The effects were instant. Avalon melted out of existence, presumably from the sheer strain of fixing so much damage, but most of the swords shrunk back into my flesh, sinking into oblivion until I couldn't feel them jostling in my lungs and heart anymore. My organs mended more quickly as well, as though there wasn't anything wrong with my in the first place. The three swords that were left I pulled out gently, making sure not to cause any more unnecessary damage. They had stuck out in nonvital places, but that didn't mean I couldn't bleed out before I healed naturally.

As I threw the last sword blade away I glared down at my right arm. Archer's arm, the arm that had been steadily growing longer, tanner and more muscular for a while now, had returned to Jaune's pale and slim limb. Enough muscle had remained on the digit that I wouldn't have too much trouble using Kanshou and Bakuya, but it would take a few days to retrain it now that it was a good six centimeters shorter. The pain was fading along with the bone shards, at least.

I glanced back at the mess I'd made. I must have lost more than a half liter of blood during my magical fit. I sighed and set my burning Circuits to Tracing a very familiar mop, pulling a Mystic Code out that leaked prana-infused water at the same time. It wouldn't do to cause such a scene before school even started.

During my cleaning, I thought a lot. The foremost thing on my mind was why Unlimited Blade Works had done what it had. It had never acted up like that, or at least to that extent. I mean, internalizing it made my reflexes sharper and my emotions a little duller, but swords sticking out of my body? That wasn't healthy, even for Reality Marbles. I ran through the small list of possible explanations I had formed, but none of them made much sense other than following to the same conclusion every time: my Reality Marble was forcibly manifesting itself inside me. I didn't know why, how or even what had forced it to that depth, but it was definitely happening, and I resolved to keep a closer eye on it and its contents.

* * *

By the time I walked back into the ballroom, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. One or two students were already awake, either dealing with their hygiene or stretching in preparation for an early-morning workout. I took note of each of their faces, memorizing their features carefully. These were the diligent and powerful students, the ones that would progress the most in their years at Beacon. They would be the ones I would turn to if I needed help with a situation.

I grabbed a toothbrush from my bags and set to work. I didn't bother showering, since I hadn't had my workout yet, but there was a bitter taste in my mouth after my experience with Unlimited Blade Works, and it wasn't blood.

I'd spent most of the night creating more Magic Circles to gather mana from the planet. For a celestial body that didn't have a consciousness, Remnant was surprisingly abundant with mana and leylines. I wondered, for a brief moment, if there were such Phantasmal Beasts as dragons or pegasi here, but then I dismissed it. It was widely accepted that dragons were the most powerful class of Phantasmal Beast on Earth. If they really resided on Remnant, then it would be an easy task for them to wipe out the hordes of Grimm that roamed the lands. Then again, more Grimm meant less humans encroaching on their territory, and thus less chance of death. Grimm would probably be a fairly good food source for them, anyway.

I spat out the remains of the toothpaste into the sink and stepped back outside, ready to begin my morning training. I Traced Shisui and started, going through the katas slowly, but surely. It was more of a show of skill than anyone else, considering how I had downloaded all the previous wielders' memories of handling the sword, but it was good for a physical workout as well. After thirty minutes, my muscles started to sting, and another fifteen minutes after that had them burning pleasantly. My left arm in particular was experiencing a heavy sensation that degraded it somewhat, leaving one of my limbs hanging uselessly from my side. Beside me, several other people were practicing with their weapons as well. I weaved through the stabbing and slashing forms, cutting down invisible enemies all the while. A streak of metal was all I could see of Shisui after a while. The spars eventually degenerated into an all-out brawl. From the faces I could see, most were excited or grinning. I received a few small cuts, and after a while, I had to stop lest I accidentally cut someone's limbs off. I left the group to their heated battle and headed for the showers.

The bathrooms at Beacon were nice. Actually, they were extravagant and gilded with marble and gold, but nice sounded more concise. The showers were literally made of solid marble, and the mirrors and faucets were cradled by golden ivy. Whoever decided where the school budget went obviously didn't have their priorities straight.

That was Ozpin, actually. Never mind, I knew he had his priorities wrong.

After that was breakfast. I didn't bother to head straight to the cafeteria, instead following the winding staircases down to the kitchens in the basement level. The cooks gave me a few strange looks as I entered and promptly took command of one of the stations. Sashimi, rice and omelettes were made in quick succession, and I wolfed down my breakfast just in time for the loudspeaker system to crackle. A cool voice that I recognized as Glynda spoke up, her words slightly distorted by electronic tones.

"Attention all first-year students," she said, calm and smooth. "Please report to Beacon Cliffs for initiation. Repeat, please report to Beacon Cliffs for initiation."

I sighed, Traced my weapons, and strapped them to my body. This was it.

Beacon Cliff was exactly what it sounded like. The stony wall ran for a good two miles in either direction. Below, leagues upon leagues of trees signified the largest Grimm-regulated wild zone on the planet. The trees were similar to an Appalachian forest rather than the twisted and tangled boughs in Japan and Europe, the trees not quite intruding on the slope of the ground. The sun was rising in the east, directly behind Beacon and stretching rays of gilded light across the marble pillars and filigree. Ozpin stood in front of the cliffs, leaning most of his weight on the cane in front of him. Beside him, Glynda was tapping away at a Scroll. Her eyes flicked to me, then to one of the metal plates lining the ground in front of them. A few first years were already idling about on the plates, so I took a spot myself and waited for someone I actually knew to show up. Gae Bolg was strapped across my back uncomfortably, but it had to be ramrod straight to make room for EMIYA's bow. Kanshou and Bakuya hung at each hip, and my tailbone was covered by a quiver of Traced arrows. Overall, I was decked out for action, whether it be against students or Grimm.

The rest of the students slowly trickled in after me, looking either too tired to be of any real use or so peppy I started measuring them up to Taiga. Ruby and her sister took up the two empty slots to my right, while Blake came out a few minutes later, looking refreshed. There was a bow on her head that I hadn't noticed the night before. Her outfit looked suspiciously like one of the Einzbern's butlers: a a white blouse with low-cut black vest and a tailcoat. Her leggings gradiated from a deep black at the waist to a sunset purple, where they were tucked into simple black shoes. Her amber eyes surveyed me, then the people around me, carefully. She picked her way around the conversing kids and stood at my left. I nodded a greeting that she returned.

"What if... What if..." Ruby was babbling all sorts of extreme and fantastical ideas that would somehow lead to her being expelled from Beacon. I clapped her on the shoulder and she yelped.

"You'll be fine," I said. I was never really good at reassuring people. Getting myself nearly killed and worrying them even more was more my style, but nevertheless I gave it a shot. "Don't think about what might happen, think about what will happen. Right now, just focus on Ozpin and go from there. If we have to slay a few monsters, we slay a few monsters. If we go against each other in a battle royale, then kick some ass and make it out of there in one piece." I forced myself to remember mid-speech that I wasn't going to be able to protect all these people all the time, and that they were capable of handling themselves as well. Most of them, anyway.

Ruby didn't look quite as relaxed as I was hoping to get her, but my words seemed to have a serious effect on her mood, because she went from spasming with nerves to only twitching now and then. "You're right," she mumbled, eyes focus with laser intensity on Ozpin. "Yeah, you're right. Just focus on the here and now, Ruby."

"That's the spirit." I offered her a small smile. She returned it, cheeks slightly pink from her earlier freak-out. We both tore our eyes away from each other when Ozpin began to speak.

"As you already know," he began, "you are here to begin your first test in Beacon Academy. Originally, we were going to have you all collecting several relics from a ruined altar several miles into the forest, but due to a few complications, we've had to change that. Instead, you are all going to be participating in a battle royale. The winner will automatically receive top ranking in the student listings, as well as one specific choice to their team. Your teammates will be decided at the end of the battle, and you will be partnered together based on your performances in battle. Just because your main enemies are each other, do not forget about the Grimm roaming the forest, they are enough of a threat to take you out of the competition, and not in a good way. If one of you becomes unconscious, whether it be by another student or your own foolishness, then you will be guaranteed protection until you can be evacuated."

Then Ozpin did something very strange. He stopped his pacing and stood front and center, glaring at us. "Don't mistake my diligence for kindness," he said. His voice wasn't warm, nor cold. It was just a stagnant spike digging deep into each of our memories. "You're here to become the next generation of assassins, killers and Huntsmen. I won't be giving you any leeway, and you won't give me any shit. It's my job to make you the best of the best, not to coddle you. You will either come out of this academy alive and cold, or not at all. There is no middle ground."

He turned his back on us. Glynda signed and checked over her Scroll one more time, tapping out a steady rhythm. "You will be launched into the forest in precisely one minute. Use your time well."

With that, both of them were silent. Ruby shivered to my right, and even Blake looked unnerved. I sent a freezing glare at Ozpin, but it was promptly ignored.

I could see where he was coming from. Of course I could; he wanted people to come back alive, and in doing so sought to make them like Gillian and Jeanne, who left some people behind for the good of the many.

I shut out all thoughts of Ozpin when fifty five seconds had passed.

The trees below suddenly seemed bigger, their branches sharper, leaves more suffocating. I spied the black forms of avian Grimm in the distance, circling over what must have been prey. Four.

Ruby was stuttering and twitching again, holding out Crescent Rose in front of her. Rather than the confident look I was expecting, she was clearly uneasy about having to mold into whatever idea Ozpin as trying to impress upon her. I wouldn't let him do that. Three.

I realized that I had no abilities that could allow me to survive a fall like the one presented before me. There were several in my arsenal that could, most notably the Vimana that Gilgamesh had crudely thrown at me during our duel. The problem was that it was not only made of unearthly materials that only just barely could be Traced on this world, and even with my incredible reserves, it would take several minutes just to gather the prana necessary to produce one. Two.

Blake was watching me closely, trying to figure out what I would do. I Traced Excalibur Image, then wrapped another Noble Phantasm around it. A shimmering sheet of air separated the blade from the rest of the world. "Try to find each other?" I asked both her and Ruby. One.

They both nodded, and as the ground fell away, I allowed a full thirty Circuits of prana to explode within my body, Reinforcing me, Excalibur Image, and its sheath to the absolute limit. I watched the girls fly past, straightening themselves to be as aerodynamic as possible. I spread Excalibur Image behind me.

"Invisible... Air."

* * *

**Alright, that's it for this chapter! I know there is a single discrepancy with the main works in this chapter: Shirou's scar. Technically, there's no evidence that Shirou never got scarred by Gae Bolg, but I find the idea that he was completely healed from a fatal wound without the merest traces of a scar bullshit. In this fic the death thrust did scar, and that's final on the matter, so apologies to anymore who finds that unnecessary.**

**Another item of note is Weiss. People seem to have a problem with how I treated Weiss in the last chapter, but rest assured she won't be a one-dimensional character, or there for simple bashing. I'm not going to go so far as calling her a main character, but she will have a decent amount of characterization.**

**Now that that's over with, let's get to reviews! As always, thanks to everyone who enjoyed the chapter and I'll try not to keep you waiting for more.**

**HE-SpecOps: I don't plan on defining the fandom here. The whole point of this fic is to split off of what most people would consider normal and put a new twist on it. I pointed out that this is a semi-AU in the summary, so certain things (such as Roman) are bound to be different from the original RWBY canon. Otherwise it'd be boring writing the same character that everyone knows with no extra development and putting him in a situation with Shirou. Sure, it'd be interesting to see how they react, but what development is happening there? Also, I didn't think I made Dust evil, per se. It has its upsides and downsides: namely, that it can power a civilisation at the cost of possibly incinerating anyone who gets near it. Dust is natural, and it's volatile, but that doesn't make it inherently evil. Besides, introducing metal to a series of effects like fire, ice and increased speed would put extreme stress on the metal, which would presumably simulate a sense of pain in a sword.**

**Yzrac: You bring up a few good points here. Most notably, I'll point out the difference in strength between Nasuverse characters and RWBY characters. The definitions of "strength" are vastly different in each canon, mostly because of the circumstances the respective plots introduce. This is actually one of the original reasons I ramped Roman's power level up in the storyboards. What I tried to do in this fic was blend both types of "strength" to make the characters blend more smoothly. As for Dust, it's not exactly magical, but if one used it correctly it could be used as a power source for magical artefacts.**

**Shikyoseinen: On the subject of Luck, it seems to be the only stat that matches regular humans. In Fate/Stay Night, the vast majority of Servants have either E or D ranked Luck, which implies that it is at a standard human level or even a little below. The only Servants that are stated to have good fortune are Assassin and Caster, who were both extremely lucky or wealthy in their lives. Also, I realize I may have come off as a little harsh on my critique of Jaune, but I really don't think he adds anything to the story... at least not yet. It still doesn't redeem the fact that he should have died several times over in the Emerald Forest had he not been supremely lucky and stabbed through the hood by Pyrrha. Or died in Forever Fall had he not been extremely lucky when Pyrrha was around to savve his ass. Or died in the Breach had he not been training for several months before that (which somehow made him able to stand against an Ursa Major while flailing around?) with Pyrrha. Basically, all of Jaune's accomplishments thus far have been because of Pyrrha; the only impressive thing he's done for himself was lie his way into Beacon, and knowing Ozpin, he probably knew from the moment Jaune applied. I won't rant any further, but there you go.**

**That seems to be it for today. Sorry about the slightly late chapter, and I hope to see you in the next installment!**


	9. Archaic Weaponry

**Welcome back to Remnant of Cursed Paradise! I know that there are reviews abound about the last chapter, but because of prior obligations, I'm putting this chapter out around 11:55 at night. Since I promised to get it to you guys on Saturdays, I'm just going to forsake review responses this chapter. They'll be back next time. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter, so without further ado, let's get reading!**

**EDIT: 5/24/15 Fixed some grammatical issues, as well as an instance where Yang calls Shirou by his name instead of Jaune.**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Archaic Weaponry**

A torrent of cool wind, smelling faintly of a fresh spring breeze, rocketed me forward. I shot ahead of the other students and began my descent only a few seconds after the apex of my climb. I charged another Prana Burst into Invisible Air and fired downwards. The recoil nearly tore my arm off, but it slowed my descent considerably and threw me into the treeline with much less force than I had anticipated.

Normally, Invisible Air was a high-powered wind Magecraft made to conceal Saber's Excalibur, made of a condensed tornado spinning so quickly that it grabbed photons and twisted them to disperse any sign of Excalibur's existence. I'd seen Saber move across city blocks in a split second with that power, and the force it added to each blow scared me.

I bounced, trying as best I could to regain some semblance of control of my fall. I managed to land on my feet, but there were still more than a half dozen cuts and scrapes on my arms and face from dropping headfirst into three fir trees. A gust of wind signaled the unveiling of Invisible Air as it and Durandal unraveled into threads of bright prana.

I heard a crash in the trees above me, and it took just a second of my time to pull out Kanshou and Bakuya to defend. A body, not just a fist, crashed into my shield of crossed swords. I pushed whoever it was off with a grunt and some Reinforcement, and they went tumbling into the undergrowth. There was an unfurled golden gauntlet on the figure's wrist.

I dodged to the right when Yang came barrelling after me again, her fist extended in a crushing punch. Kanshou batted the jab to the side, while Bakuya got inside her guard and met her stomach with its hilt. I danced away when she threw yet another punch at me, this one twice as strong as the first two.

I got into the signature position of my style, with a gaping hole around the ribs on my left side. Yang must have thought she'd won already, because her mouth split into a fearsome smile. "Sorry, Jaune," she said brightly as her fist traveled towards my solar plexus. "Looks like you're gonna fail this test!"

I effortlessly batted the incoming punch to the side. I would have been lying if I said I didn't enjoy the look of complete shock on her face. The shotgun blast that followed her trailed hook detonated against a nearby tree, nearly splitting it in two. If these people didn't have Aura, they'd all be dead!

"Don't talk during a fight," I told her seriously, just before whipping her across the face with the flat of Kanshou's blade. I followed up with a smack to the temple, just to be safe. She crumpled like a rock falling to earth. "It's unbecoming and distracting."

I stepped away and watched her motionless form for a moment. She wasn't moving, a fairly good sign for me. As I observed her, a shimmering green barrier pulsed to life around her form, looking suspiciously like an Aura. As if to confirm my thoughts, Ozpin dropped down from the canopy just a moment later. He landed with nary a sound, nodded to me, picked up Yang by the back and knees, and jumped away again.

I watched the two fade into the distance, then an idea struck me. I started climbing one of the trees, balancing precariously on Kanshou and Bakuya as they carved gouges for me to climb with. I managed to perch myself on the tip of the tree, its boughs bending dangerously beneath me. Finding a higher vantage point was a must in any form of combat, whether long range or short. I pulled EMIYA's bow from my back and fitted it with an arrow. My eyesight sharpened threefold when I directed the flow of prana to my eyes. There were two figures in the corner of my vision, one black and one silver. Blake was fighting some giant kid with a buzzcut and a mace. I breathed deeply, visualizing the target...

...and took the shot.

The arrow soared true, traveling for nearly a half mile with perfect accuracy. It struck the man on the arm, directing his attack away from Blake and allowing her to land a devastating series of slashes on his armor. The steel curled and furrowed like paper, rending away from the Variant Ballistic Chain Scythe known as Gambol Shroud. He was out in an instant, blood seeping from the wound on his chest. Moments later, the green Aura began to envelop him too, and Ozpin once again dropped to the ground before sailing back up to the cliff tops. Blake looked around, trying to find the source of the arrow that had given her an opening. She must have been able to see my general figure, because she squinted up at my form. I raise a hand in greeting, a gesture that she tentatively repeated.

Blake seemed to be the best chance I had of getting out of this thing on top. Besides, a little teamwork went a long way. Thanks to teaming up with Rin and Archer, I'd been able to activate powers that not even I could have dreamed about, as well as take out a number of Servants.

I dropped back to the ground, activating another volley of Invisible Air to slow my descent. Once I hit the ground, I took off in a burst of speed, accentuated by Reinforcement. Of the seventy two first-year students, two of them were already down that I knew of, and probably four or five more were going to go down in the five minutes it would take me to reach her.

As expected, it took five minutes exactly to reach Blake. She was heading towards me also, and tensed when I approached. I held out a hand a stopped. "No need," I said shortly. "Working together doubles our chances of winning."

She mulled over the question for a moment, and as she did so, I assessed our location. The growth was thick, but not overly so, and the sun hung in the sky like a gigantic lamp. I couldn't hear anything other than the sounds of the forest for at least a half-mile around, so we were in the clear for the moment.

"Alright, let's get going," Blake murmured. I nodded, and together the two of us set off in search of more combatants.

It didn't take long for us to find them. The first one was a girl with some of the brightest hair I'd ever seen, even more orange than my own. She was walking next to a boy with black hair and carried a massive warhammer with her, lifting it easily as if it didn't weigh the two hundred pounds my Structural Analysis told me it was. Upon our arrival, the green-clothed, black-haired boy twisted and threw a lightning-fast punch at my head. I bent backwards, allowing my torso's momentum to pull my legs up and knock the boy's arms away. I finished the flip and darted forward the moment my toes touched the ground. Beside me, Blake took the girl down with a single move. It seemed like she wasn't as prepared as I thought she would have. A person needed to have some serious reflexes when holding a weapon that huge, because if they didn't, there wasn't a chance in hell they could dodge or block a move from a faster weapon.

The boy jabbed at me, not bothering to reveal his weapon, but I just pulled out Bakuya and knocked it aside again. He used my deflection against me, turning the momentum I'd created into a spinning kick that caught me on the cheek. I spat out a bit of blood and jammed the hilt of Bakuya into his open palm.

He gargled out a rasp of pain, and Bakuya promptly exploded. A pink wave of Aura spread out from its hilt to the tip of the blade, dissolving it as it went. I pulled out Kanshou and beat him over the head with the flat of the blade. He still didn't go down, and in the end we were tied in a deadlock, beating each other to pieces with fists, knees and elbows as we wrestled on the ground. From the few glimpses I'd caught of Blake, she simply sat back and guarded the perimeter.

Five minutes and several severe bruises later, the boy was unconscious, courtesy of a stray fist to the temple. I stood and spat out more blood next to his prone form. I wasn't much of a fist fighter, but that felt... oddly satisfying. Blake pulled me up when my leg began to give way and I stumbled. For the few minutes she helped carry my weight, I focused on overcharging Avalon with prana, and soon my bruises and cracked bones were nothing more than a faded, hazy memory.

In the course of the next two hours, Blake and I met more than a half dozen more students, each of them posing no real threat. To be honest, the black-haired boy with the pink eyes and the ponytail was the biggest problem I'd had so far, and that was kind of pathetic. If these people couldn't even stand up to me when my Curse was still in effect, then how easy would it be for me to defeat them with my full power?

I pulled out Gae Bolg. Behind us, the bushes began to shake ominously. Blake stopped immediately, her eyes trained on the hidden creatures in the bush. Just as one of their number leaped- I vaguely recognized the black hide as that of a Beowolf- I jabbed forward with the Spear of Impaling Barbed Death. The spear, true to its legend, gravitated towards the beast's heart. With a wet, slimy squelch, the Beowolf fell limply onto the crimson shaft of Cu 's famed lance. I tossed the body away, its half-canine, half-human limbs already trailing black smoke. Blake was facing off against another two, and six more were advancing from behind her. I grinned.

I tossed Gae Bolg in the air and flicked Kanshou and Bakuya at my enemies. They instantly decapitated two before coming together to bisect a third. EMIYA's bow launched two arrows, each one striking a Beowolf between the eyes, and Gae Bolg came hurtling down on the sixth one, nailing it from mouth to groin to the ground. Each one let out a simultaneous shriek in the throes of death. Blake's Gambol Shroud detached, the original blade coming away to reveal another, thinner length of steel. Each one carved a pattern of pain into her opponents' bodies before quite literally disarming them.

More growling came from the bushes, and a Beowolf several times bigger than the small fry we'd been fending off rose from the shadows cast by the trees. It stood at an impressive fifteen feet, and more than half of its body was coated in a Grimm's signature bony plates. Its mask was carved with several slashes and scars, marring the intricate red patterns that naturally decorated it. Clearly, this thing was a Big Boss.

I found myself smirking just a little bit. Rin must have been rubbing off on me.

Kanshou and Bakuya returned to my hands, each one vibrating with energy before being tossed at its face. I pulled Gae Bolg out of the ground and leveled it against the Beowolf, shifting my stance to the one that I remembered Lancer pulling before striking Saber with his "unblockable" attack. Blake stood back. She must have seen me take that specific stance and waited to see what I would do.

"Gae..." I began the incantation. Gae Bolg's spearhead lit up in a fountain of yellow and crimson prana sparks. The light created streaks in the air as my body, pushed to the absolute limit by Reinforcement, shivered. The Beowolf recognized a chance to attack and charged forward. At the last second I thrust the spearhead down, my prana finishing the Single Action causality reversal before my words could. The Beowolf seemed to realize something was wrong, because it twisted to the side and landed a good dozen feet away from where I was originally aiming.

It didn't matter.

"Bolg!" The spear rushed forward, becoming a shaft of light in my hands as it elongated and flew towards its target. I couldn't have seen it, but I knew the effects of Gae Bolg well enough. What seemed to be the light-spear turning 90-degree angles to reach the Beowolf was actually the spear impacting the point where I was aiming, realizing it had not struck the heart, rewriting the laws of the universe, and lodging itself into the Beowolf's left side. That was the ability of Gae Bolg: to create a phenomenon where instead of "the spear has struck, so the heart is pierced", causality became "the heart has been pierced, so the spear must have struck".

Blake watched over the whole battle impassively, only a raised eyebrow signifying her surprise. Gae Bolg rematerialized in my hand, becoming a six-foot spear once more. I replaced it on my back and gestured for Blake to move on.

"We're talking about this later," she said simply. I nodded.

Really, I had a gift for causing problems. Just my E ranked Luck.

* * *

By the time Blake and I made a camp, it was nearly sundown. The quiet forest grew in volume, teeming with the lives of thousands upon thousands of insects, small mammals, and most profoundly Grimm. Our camp was simple, consisting only of two tents Blake and I had dredged up and a fire pit. I turned the squirrels spitted on a stick, enjoying the smell of slowly roasting meat. A pile of various fruits lay next to the fire, courtesy of Blake. The girl herself was reclining her head against a tree trunk, gazing blankly at the reddening sky. Her golden eyes would occasionally flick to me, as if she was expecting me to pull another trick like Gae Bolg out of my ass.

That would be a waste of prana, and besides, most of those special abilities were designed to main, if not kill. No, it would be best for me to leave the rest of my Noble Phantasms unknown at the moment.

"So, what was that spear thing?" Blake asked from her position on the ground. I stopped turning the squirrels for a second, then sighed and started speaking.

"I was hoping not to ever have to use that ability while I was here, you know," I began. It's too dangerous for me to throw it around, and the cost of charging it completely is ridiculous." I pulled Gae Bolg from its place next to my tent, where it was holding up the rain cover. Not the most extravagant use of a nine hundred year old famous lance that could kill pretty much anything, but spears were versatile, and I saw no need to reveal my Tracing just yet. "Its name is Gae Bolg, or if you want to be technical, Gae Bolg: The Spear Of Impaling Barbed Death. Its regular abilities just function as a spear, but when charged, it can be used to accomplish one of two effects: to either pierce the opponent's heart with unerring accuracy or to multiply mid-throw and become a storm of lances. To be honest, I've never used the second form, because I just haven't found the need to just yet, but Gae Bolg's reversal of causality works wonders with single Grimm."

"Reversal of causality?" Blake looked intrigued by the idea, and I explained the concept to her. Afterwards, she sat up and took a contemplative stance. "So... Your Aura is used to charge the effect of the spear, but your Aura is completely independent from the effects itself? It's the spear causing the reversal, not your Aura?"

"That's right," I affirmed. The squirrels smelled about done, so I stripped them off the stick and took to carving them up with Bakuya.

"But then, why doesn't your Aura interfere with its effects?" she asked. "The elemental affiliations in Aura should throw that effect off balance and cause it to self-destruct if it charges up."

"I just have an unaffiliated Aura," I mumbled. It was partially true, because I couldn't use any of the five basic elements for Magi, not the European nor the Japanese versions. It was one of the reasons I had been branded as a failure of a Magus by Rin and Ilya, and they were both Average Ones, those few Magi that could use all five elements with equal strength.

"Impossible," Black deadpanned. "Everybody's got some sort of elemental affiliation with their Aura, even if it's just extremely obscure. Mine, for example. My Aura has a strong affinity with the shadows, which allows me to transfer between them without being seen or heard. In addition, it allows me to create semi-corporeal clones of myself that I can use to take attacks for me."

I nodded idly, while mulling the information over in my head. There was some serious power in that ability, and if used right it could decide the fate of several battles. That still didn't answer her question, though. "I don't know what else to tell you, other than that I have no affiliation whatsoever. I've been able to use Gae Bolg as long as I've had it. Really, the only restriction on my use of it is the power it uses, and I've both built up my reserves and learned how to refine my pr- Aura to condense its power with as little use as possible." In the beginning, I would only have been able to use Gae Bolg fthree times after Tracing it, and I'd be decomposing. That number had increased to four after the Grail War, and after transplanting into Jaune's body it had increased into maybe sixteen. Lancer could use it with far more effect and probably many more times than I could, but it was a start.

Blake grumbled at me, like she still didn't believe me. Man, nobody believed me when I revealed my abilities. It was kind of disheartening, to be honest.

I bit into the squirrel closest to me. It was a bit well-done, and there wasn't any seasoning aside from some ripped-up lemongrass I'd managed to find sprouting underneath the shade of a tree, but it was still pretty good. Across from me, Blake gave me another glare even as she bit into hers. Her glower slowly trailed off into a blank look as she chewed, and I knew that my skills as a decent cook had diffused the tension between us.

"Where'd you learn to cook?" she asked curiously. A sparkle in her eyes was the only sign that she'd enjoyed it, even though she started tearing into a second the moment she finished the first. I grabbed a small apple and bit into it, the sweet juice hitting my tongue like a wave and washing away the pleasant umami taste of the squirrel.

"I was orphaned when I was ten," I told her, "and my adoptive father couldn't cook at all. I decided to take up the burden for the both of our sakes, and it turned out that I was a decent cook."

"Decent?" She didn't even appear fazed by the orphan part. Most people usually were. "This is incredible. I doubt that there are many five-star chefs who could make something as simple and stringy as squirrel taste so good with only a few sparse ingredients and a campfire!"

I smiled as she tore a chunk of meat from the squirrel in her hands and placed it into her mouth, in order to more carefully savor the taste. This was ending up a lot more like the standard Emiya household dinner after all.

Blake and I finished dinner with a satisfying lump of chocolate I'd smuggled in along with my camping supplies. To be honest, I'd forgotten it was there, having absentmindedly placed one in each of my bags to distract a nonexistent Rin should she become a problem. The two of us watched the hungry shadows after that. Blake seemed unnecessarily focused on staying up to keep the both of us safe. I tamped her down, telling her that I'd take the first watch. She opened her mouth, looking like she wanted to protest, but sat back down after a while with an oddly guilty look on her face. She somehow managed to convince me that splitting the night watch was best for the both of us, and before she could argue I promptly took the first four hours and coaxed her to sleep with another small apple.

Two hours into my night vigil, there was a shake in the trees. Blake twitched in her sleep, but didn't wake. The shaking in the branches grew louder. I pulled EMIYA's bow from my back. I was just above six feet tall in Jaune's body, imposing for my age, but even I was dwarfed by the gigantic bow in my hands. It stood just under seven feet tall, with a bowstring that only a Heroic Spirit or someone similar could draw. My D rank Strength fell just shy of doing so, but Reinforcing my arm allowed me to draw the bowstring back almost all the way. Archer's Reinforced Strength had been B rank, after all. I fit one of the bow's normal arrows, four and a half feet tall and twice as thick as a regular arrow, to the string and waited.

A figure stumbled into view, barely visible even with my Reinforced eyes. "Keep your hands in the air and step into the light of the fire!" I snapped. My fingers itched to relax and release the bolt towards my victim, but I held fast.

It was a good thing I did, too. With a nervous squeak, Ruby Rose stepped out into the light of the fire, her hands in the air and her knees shaking. I relaxed the bowstring, but only slightly. "How do I know you're not some species of Grimm that can change form?" I asked it. "Tell me something only Ruby would know about me." Chances were that this was Ruby Rose, but I wasn't going to give any ground while someone lay vulnerable behind me. If I lowered my guard for even a moment, that thing that may or may not have been Ruby Rose could bolt past me and attack Blake.

"Umm..." Ruby pulled one of her hands out of the air to grip her chin, and if it were any other situation I'd halt my threat immediately and set down my bow. Even after knowing Ruby for only two days, that was very Ruby-like behavior. "Ah, I've got it!" she exclaimed, slamming her fist into her open palm. "You get really airsick! You looked like you were going to hurl when you got off the airship yesterday!"

I released the breath I'd been holding and set my bow down, replacing the arrow within its quiver. "Alright, so it is you," I breathed, then gave her an apologetic glance. "Sorry about that, but you can never be too sure with Grimm. Sit down and make yourself comfortable. We're going to be here for the entire night, it seems."

Ruby nodded and sat down by the fire, quickly unloading a sleeping bag and blanket. Her stomach growled loudly, and she looked longingly at the three remaining squirrels. I couldn't help but laugh. "Go ahead, have them. They're not doing anything there other than cooling down anyway."

"Thank you!" she quipped. As I resumed my watch of the woods beyond us, I heard the distinct tears and crunches of Ruby digging into to the leftovers of our meal. It was quickly silenced, and not ten minutes later it was replaced with a tiny snore. I pulled my arrow back to the bowstring, took a deep breath, and released.

The Beowolf that thought it was being clever dropped to the ground, my arrow splitting its head. It had been following Ruby for the past few hours, by the looks of it, and if she hadn't stumbled across us I doubt she would have been alive the next morning to tell the tale. A Beowolf loner wasn't particularly common, but it had happened from time to time. My only hope was that there weren't more of them behind her.

* * *

Morning came quickly for all three of us. Despite Blake's insistence that I need to sleep, I'd climbed into bed with anything but on my mind. I managed a few restless hours that refilled my prana reserves once more. Ruby tagged along behind us, even after we broke camp. It seemed like she'd been trying to keep her promise of finding Blake and me. The three of us stuck together, dealing a massive blow to the other students, who for the most part had decided to go solo.

The only other person of merit we'd found was a girl by the name of Pyrrha. She'd fought evenly with Blake, something that only I could do so far, until Ruby and I had decided to get involved. After a few minutes of withstanding our combined beatings, she relented and surrendered.

A cannon fired in the distance, and we looked up from our tonkatsu lunch to see a violet orb, gleaming with dozens of glowing silver inscriptions, descending to our eye level. "Attention students," it murmured. "Please gather in the ruins located near the Cliffs for the final part of your test. Only eleven combatants remain."

With that, the orb shattered, its cracked pieces littering the floor and our lunches. I pushed the last piece of pork to my mouth and stood, the girls following suit quickly after. I could see the Cliffs in the distance, their rocky crags jutting out into the air. Overhead, a few stray Nevermore glided along the jet streams, darting in and out of sight of the glade. Blake was the one who led the trek back to the Cliffs.

She was on edge about something, and I couldn't blame her. I had the strangest feeling that Ozpin was up to something, and I didn't like it. I sniffed, allowing the scents of the forest to permeate my thoughts. Most Magi had a way of detecting prana signatures, whether it be through sight, hearing or other senses. I'd gotten stuck with scent, and while the smell of energy wasn't nearly as common on Remnant than on Earth, my detection ability must have extended to Aura, because I could smell that too. Ruby smelled like her namesake, the faint smell of freshly watered roses hitting my nostrils when I turns in her direction. Blake, on the other hand, was layered with a myriad of different scents. Honey, pepper and moonstone wafted into my nose, mixing into a strangely pleasant feeling of invigoration. She would fidget every now and then, like she was expecting an attack.

She must have been sorely disappointed when the only things that came keeping out at us were the occasional Beowolf. The journey back to the Cliffs was made somewhat easier by a faint trail of footsteps heading in the direction we were.

The ruins came into sight within a half-hour of the discovery of those footprints. They were crumbling apart, but still looked like they could hold several of the giant Grimm I'd seen in the forest at the Arc household. Each stone pillar was engraved with thousands of tiny markings, each one unfamiliar. I could see an occasional Norse rune here and there, but with the multitude of other symbols it wasn't surprising that there would be a similarity or two in our languages. The center platform was circling, and consisted of concentric rings inscribed with the same enigmatic language as the pillars. It appeared to be a worn version of a Coliseum, some kind of arena. I could even see the faint impressions of seats ringing the circle in the center. Ozpin and Glynda, along with three other students that I didn't recognize, were standing in the middle.

I raised a lazy hand in greeting, one that the students returned. As Blake and Ruby stood next to the others, I began to Analyze the structure of the ruins. They were still sound, and probably would be for another three or four hundred years before needing refurbishing. The most interesting part, however, was the fact that we were on the top floor of what appeared to be a several-hundred foot tall tower. The other floors had been worn away by age, leaving only the structural support pillars behind. I glanced over the edge. The pillars extends deep into the fog below, so far that I couldn't see the bottom even with my eyes Reinforced.

This was a building built quickly and as strongly as possible. The people here were most likely facing the immense number of Grimm that inhabited the forest, and thus built upwards. Even without Structural Analysis, I could tell you that this was built thousands of years ago, when humanity was still prey to the Grimm. This was a sign of the defenders, not the conquerors.

I didn't like it. This place, while stable, stank of fear long gone. It was in the air around me, permeating every fiber of my nose and lungs. It made me wary, tense, and somehow I knew that the others were feeling the same.

As I waited and tried to calm myself down, the other students arrived one by one. A few I recognized, most I didn't. In total, it was me, Blake, Ruby, five strangers, a kid with a light green mohawk that I'd bumped into in the morning, the Schnee girl, and a girl with red-brown hair that almost matched mine. Myrtenaster's yearning presence, now so familiar I could feel it even outside of just Analyzing it, wasn't as painful as it was before initiation. Somehow, my presence was causing the damage on its sentience to lessen, but how? Was it Avalon that was healing the blade? A few seconds passed, each of us looking at the others in silence. Ozpin tapped his cane against the ground.

We weren't making all that much noise anyway, but suddenly everything fell deathly silent. The birds stopped screeching, the limbs of the trees stopped creaking and twitching in a soft, lilting wind. It was as if everything had gone silent. I smelled Aura, or some kind of intensely concentrated prana, bubbling away under my feet, providing the circle with a silencing spell. Ozpin cleared his throat. Interestingly enough, he could make noise, but we couldn't.

"There is a silencer on this circle, as I'm sure you've noticed," he began. "Your task is to fight for first place. All eleven of you will be attacking each other, with no restraint. Fight to immobilize, not kill. That is all."

Ozin slowly, deliberately stepped out of the arena. Nobody moved for a moment, then I stepped forward. Before anyone could get into the heat of battle, Gae Bolg was already knocking somebody's body to the side, sending them precariously close to the edge of the arena. I turned, ready to block the strike I knew was coming. The kid with the mohawk thrust a bladed gun at me, his arms flailing wildly as he beat on Gae Bolg's shaft. The intricately carved vines didn't so much as scuff when they met the high-quality steel. I batted one of his weapons away, then pulled Kanshou and stabbed him in the side. The point of the Yang sword only dug a few centimeters deep, but it was enough to put him off balance and disrupt the focus he needed to control his Aura. I pushed him down and slammed his head against the ground, not hard enough to break anything but definitely enough to give him a nasty concussion. When I looked back up, the battle had started.

Since one of the contestants was already down, it was easy for me to notice Blake and Ruby. The pair weren't going for each other, which was good enough, but neither were they teaming up to deal with their enemies. One of the strangers pulled a massive broadsword from his back and swung it at blinding speeds at Ruby. She blocked, but the sheer strength behind the attack sent her skidding back several feet, and she had to dig the tip of Crescent Rose into the stone below to keep herself from falling off. A blast of heat erupted from the blade of the sword. Ruby fired a single bullet that caught him in the chest. At first I thought she'd punctured straight through his body, but then I realized that his Aura, now significantly weaker than before, had caught it. Ruby moved in with incredible speed, hacking and slashing. For such an unwieldy weapon, her scythe did its job well; everything it touched, aside from the stranger's blade, was rent to ribbons.

I ducked out of the way of another shot, this one from the auburn girl I'd noticed earlier. She was taking aim with a rifle. I jumped forward in an attempt to intercept the weapon. She pulled the trigger.

The bullet was slow enough to be visible to my Reinforced senses and reflexes, but it still clipped my shoulder. Without Aura, there was nothing to protect my body but the black armor I'd Traced from Archer. Avalon set to work on the hole piercing straight through my shoulder blade, already finding little bits and pieces of flesh to sew back together. the girl looked horrified that she'd actually shot another person. Her arms shook, her knees trembled, and with a clattering of steel against stone, her gun dropped. I stepped forward and smacked her in the jaw with Bakuya, and she crumpled.

With one of my arms useless I had to take the time to replace Gae Bolg in its holster, which cost me about a half-dozen precious seconds. In that time, Blake had dispatched two of her opponents and Ruby had finished her first. I spun as Blake approached, and we instinctively went back to back as the last two men surrounded us. They also figured that working together was the best way to do things. I nodded at the larger one. "I'll take him, you and Ruby get the other guy."

Blake nodded without a sound, opting to redraw the hidden blade in Gambol Shroud and watch her opponent carefully. Ruby, on the other hand, charged straight in. Weiss was still sitting back and watching us. Whenever she glanced over my form her expression grew tight, and Myrtenaster's pain increased a little bit. I pushed the pressure to the back of my head and focused on the person in front of me. He was already on me, slamming down on me with two massive fists. I caught his hands with my good one and shrugged him off. Even if he was massive and extremely muscled, I still had E-rank Strength right then. This guy was E- at best. I spun around and kicked him in the chest, sending him flying into a tree.

At that point, Weiss stood, her eyes blazing with angry blue light. She gripped Myrtenaster. It cried out again, but didn't scream, and after the first yell of pain quietened down. I could still feel its anger and agony stewing inside of it, though.

Weiss darted forward, faster than even Ruby could. She struck first at my left, then my right. I deflected each one with Kanshou, tossing it and Bakuya in the air to try and wield them both at the same time. Avalon was healing me as fast as it could, but it would still be another few minutes until I could use my other hand. I shrugged off EMIYA's bow and threw it to the side; it was cumbersome and useless in that situation.

As if angry with my choice to abandon my long-range weapon, Weiss stabbed again at me, this time aiming for my throat. I bent backwards, and in much the same way as I'd done with the boy with pink eyes, I allowed my torso to carry my momentum and sent my feet into Weiss' chest. She gasped with pain. I refrained from slamming Kanshou against Myrtenaster, waiting until I absolutely had to attack to strike against the blade.

The Schnee got up shakily, her breaths short and a small red-purple patch blossoming above the line of her dress. She charged again. I noted her movements. She was flashy and graceful, but there was so much wasted movement in her steps that it was almost abhorrent. One of the first things Saber had beaten into me was footwork and movement, and while I already knew not to waste movement from my few sessions against Taiga in kendo and my kyuudou training, Saber had recognized a lot of unnecessary body movement in my form. This girl used it liberally, literally spinning to the side or bouncing around when she didn't really need to. It made her a bit more unpredictable, but she still telegraphed all of her strikes through the bunching of her shoulders in a lunge. She slashed, too, a terribly ineffective move for a rapier-wielder. Only the point could tear and slash, and although she was precise in her movements, it didn't convey nearly enough damage in her attack.

Where did she learn to fight with such a wasteful manner? It was almost pathetic, how easily it could be exploited.

I could see the advantages, but she wasn't nearly ready enough to be a showy fighter. I only just considered people like Rin enough to be showy fighters, and that was because she could get away with it and still crush most of her opponents. The Servants were in that classification as well, but they never once wasted a chance to attack, or took an unneeded step. They had learned multiple times the consequences of being flashy. It made you a bigger target in a war, and unless you had the skills to back up your claims, you didn't want to be a big target in a war.

The Schnee girl stumbled on her heels when she darted forward again. I took advantage of the opportunity and blocked Myrtenaster by swatting her arm out of the way, then buried a fist in her gut. She trembled, but stayed focused and conscious. Myrtenaster fell from her limping grip. Abruptly, the pain I'd felt from the sword ceased. I kneed her in the side, just for good measure, and left her there to sink into unconsciousness. Kanshou fell to the ground next to Bakuya, and I picked up Myrtenaster.

The sword positively hummed.

* * *

Myrtenaster erupted with life the moment Shirou picked her up. The warmth emanating from his grip threatened to overwhelm her entirely. The fluctuation from extremes, pain to relief, was intense enough to release a flash of energy independent from the Dust that was chambered inside her barrels. Her blade lit up with shifting white inscriptions, and she channeled the power as best as she could to her wielder's arms.

It was unnecessary, she knew, but the energy still merged with his own power. It wasn't Aura, not even close, but it still flowed and gleamed like it, and the energy accepted and assimilated her power boost.

The pain was gone, however briefly, and she felt the strange, probing glow (Structural Analysis was the word that echoed within her being) invade her blade and barrel once more. It sifted gently through her memories, taking care not to damage anything, then latched onto a few, copied them, and pulled them away. She vaguely recognized the man in the memory as one of her older wielders from three hundred years or so ago. He was always gentle with her, unlike the current Schnee heiress.

Then, to her utter amazement, Shirou adopted the exact posture that the man from three hundred years ago did. His arm was held out and away from him, bent ever so slightly inwards. His feet moved swiftly, right foot front and left foot back. His trailing arm tucked itself away and laid upon the red line of infernal flames on his back. She assumed it was a weapon, but without eyes there wasn't any way to tell for sure.

Shirou dashed forward and released another burst of his unfamiliar energy into her blade. The white inscriptions reformed, increasing his speed, strength and endurance by a noticeable amount. She flew forward, intent on stabbing the ground. That was exactly what she did, and the light ejected from her point and blasted across the ground in a wave of pure destruction. The stone began crumbling, and it was only then that Shirou let up on the onslaught.

If Myrtenaster could breathe, she would have let out a sigh of almost disappointment when he gently laid her on the ground and moved towards the two targets he'd disarmed and disabled with their attack. It was good to be used correctly for once. Weiss Schnee hurt her, but she had some semblance of how to use a rapier. Shirou, on the other hand, read her like a master and fought just as one would.

She withdrew, waiting for the pain to come back and basking in what was left of Shirou's warm light.


	10. Teamwork

**Welcome back to Remnant of Cursed Paradise! A vacation notice will be posted at the bottom of the chapter, as well as a few chapter notes. Also, big announcement: I've put up a poll for my next fic on my page. Remnant of Cursed Paradise isn't anywhere near finished, of course, but when it's done I want to get right to work on one of my other ideas, and I'm letting you guys choose which one that is.**

**That seems to be it for now, so let's get to it!**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Teamwork**

I set Myrtenaster on the ground, my Circuits still reeling from the burst of prana that originated inside of the blade. It was impossible, and not just "True Magic" impossible, but really impossible. Only creatures with souls were capable of generating od, and Myrtenaster had only Resonance of Steel, not a true soul...

...or did it?

I didn't know much about its actual creation, despite my Analysis of it. Things began to blur together the farther I looked into its history. There were only a few vague impressions of a hammer, heat, and something that I assumed was water, by the ease that Myrtenaster slid in and out of it. Maybe that wasn't water, but prana. If prana had actually been used in the creation of a sword, and that sword developed a Resonance of Steel... then what did that make the sword?

Blake stirred, and my eyes snapped towards Ozpin. He nodded and stepped forward. Sound returned to the area, and I only just noticed that it had been off the entire time. "And it looks like we have a winner," he proclaimed. "Jaune Arc is the top contender for the first years as of now."

A few people sighed in defeat, but most of them were either unconscious or silent. Ruby and Blake both gave me approving nods after a moment, like it should have been me if it couldn't be them.

"As you all should know," Ozpin continued, "there are four members in every team here at Beacon. Jaune has proven himself not only capable of being a leader, but of deciding on good companions. Jaune, you can pick anyone from the first years as one of your teammates."

"Hmm..." I thought about it. If there were four people per team, then it was almost a guarantee that Ruby and Blake would be with me. If that was indeed the case, then it would be useless choosing them. There were only two people that managed to stand my first three blows, and they were both overlooking the match up on top of the cliff. "The boy with the green outfit. He has pink eyes and black hair. He was pretty good with hand-to-hand combat."

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Ruby deflate, a disappointed look on her face. Blake just stared at me impassively. Ozpin considered it, then nodded.

"Yes," he mused. "Yes, Lie Ren would be a good addition to your team. I'll make the arrangements." He raised his voice to address everyone. "I'll see you all in the main auditorium in five hours to assign teams."

Ozpin jumped away, sailing between footholds on the cliff face to climb his way to the top. I glanced around. Out of the eleven of us that had been left, six were unconscious. The five that were still awake were glaring at the retreating figure of Ozpin. I sighed and scooped a body under each arm, Reinforcing my body to pull off the same feats as Ozpin.

"We might as well get going, then," I told Blake and Ruby. Two grunts of affirmation met my ears. I started up the cliff, pushing my burning Circuits further. It took a full five minutes to get to the top of the cliff, even with full Reinforcement. I dropped the two bodies off and checked the rough-hewn stairways. Blake and Ruby, along with two of the people I'd knocked out, were slowly picking a path up to the top of the plateau. Another ten minutes passed, and finally they reached the top. Everyone dropped off their bodies and headed off to the showers.

The first years were crowded around the front door when we arrived. As I stepped, they all went silent, bringing an oppressive awkwardness into the air. I glanced left and right, trying to find some indication of doing something wrong.

Then somebody clapped.

It started slowly at first, like something you'd see in a cheesy Western movie. First one person, then two, then five and ten and fifty. All seventy one other students were clapping in some form, whether it be a grudging acknowledgement or a loud, raucous cheer. Hands clapped on my back, voices rang in my ears, and overall the atmosphere was bright and cheery. I shook as many hands as possible, but there were too many, and eventually I just stopped and participated in the celebrations altogether. It was nice, being able to relax with people my age, ready to just kick back, eat a rice ball or two, and chat. That was how people hung out, right?

Our crowd clamored through the halls charging in and out of various rooms to celebrate in. A few people, notably Blake and Ruby's sister, split off to shower, but most of the students found themselves talking and laughing in the main ballroom. I was surrounded by people who were clamoring to tell each other stories about their previous hunts. I found myself relaying a few about my encounters in the Arcs' forest, and even a very heavily modified version of my battle against Berserker, in which the Greek hero took the form of an Ursa Major, one of the larger and deadlier species of Common Grimm. I pulled Kanshou and Bakuya out as I talked, shining their blades in the waning sunlight. Most of the people listening to me were grinning from ear to ear. When I finished my tale, they started on their own, and soon we were being regaled with stories about Larva Nevermore, Boarbatusks and even a story about a Nightmaiden that I was fairly sure was made up.

The festivities lasted for several hours. The sun was setting its final rays on my face when Glynda's voice finally came booming over the loudspeakers. "All first year students, please make your way to the auditorium for team allocation. Repeat, all first year students should make their way to the auditorium for team allocations."

I pushed myself off the railing I was sitting on with a grunt. The first years filed into a semi-orderly line towards the auditorium. The place was vast, easily holding enough to seat a thousand people, and between staff, students and janitors, more than half of the seats were filled. All in all, about six hundred people were lined up in the bleachers. Out of them, only fifty were teachers and four hundred and fifty were students, leaving a full hundred people to manage the castle of a school.

White pillars lined the walls, just like every other part of the school. The bleachers were made of a comfortable looking wood that blended well with the white-tiled floor, and from the little I could see in the dimness of the room, it seemed like they were lined with velvet. Ozpin was standing atop the pure white stage, several spotlights on his form. The shadows he cast were fanned out and irregular. "Now that our first years are here," he said clearly, "we may start with the team allocations. Let's start with the top-ranked first year we have."

Ozpin beckoned me to walk across the stage. As I passed, I noted everyone's eyes on my form. They were all sizing me up. There were no snide comments, no insults or even lighthearted jeers that upperclassmen would throw down at youngest students. They were all fighters, and it really unnerved me. In the end, however, I managed to keep calm, simply clasping my hands behind my back and staring directly at Ozpin.

"As you all know," he began, "the strongest first year in the initiation ceremony gets the automatic top ranking for the first week, as well as the choice to pick a student personally as their teammate. Jaune Arc, age sixteen, has managed to earn top spot among seventy two students, defeating fifteen of them himself. He has chosen Lie Ren as his partner. Mister Lie, if you could please step forward."

The boy wearing green did so, looking confused. He probably didn't expect me to choose him as a partner, even though he was one of only four people I'd met so far that could hold his own against my Noble Phantasms for more than two attacks. He stood next to me, giving me a questioning glance. I simply smiled at him.

"Now, to finish our first team, we have the other two members." Ozpin looked over the assembled students, making a show of pretending to hand-pick them. He had hand-picked them, of course, but it was probably as we were fighting in the forest. "Ruby Rose and Blake Belladonna, please step forward."

Blake walked calmly, neither her amber eyes nor her sensuous strides betraying a single emotion. Ruby, on the other hand, was pretty much a nervous/excited wreck (I couldn't quite tell which. She was shivering a bit when she stopped to stand next to me, and her fingers rubbed distractedly on the edge of Crescent Rose. A flicker of something began to worm its way into her eyes. I clapped her on the shoulder and grinned, startling her long enough for Ozpin to read his next lines.

"Ruby Rose, Blake Belladonna, Jaune Arc and Lie Ren. Three of you managed to advance to the final battle of our little contest, and the fourth likely would have made it as well had he not had the misfortune to meet Jaune. As of now, you will be team SRBR (Strawberry), led by Jaune Arc. Make sure to represent Beacon Academy well."

The assembled students clapped politely. I could feel more than a few eyes on Ruby and I, as well as Blake. The two of us were underage after all, and Blake attracted attention as naturally as she walked. Ren seemed to be the only normal one in our team, but even he had a hidden mastery of martial arts I hadn't seen from anyone other than Bazett Fraga McRemitz. The Irishwoman was easily the most powerful human I'd ever encountered, able to utilize almost as much prana as Rin at her strongest, holding an ancient Noble Phantasm that guaranteed instant death as a retaliatory strike, and having a mastery of more than four different martial arts and Runes to empower her body beyond human limits.

Now that I thought about it, how did I ever escape from that woman's attack? She must have been going easy on me.

The four of us filed off the stage and stood back as Ozpin stepped forward again. "Next we have team PYWN (Pawn), consisting of Pyrrha Nikos, Weiss Schnee, Yang Xiaolong, and Nora Valkyrie! This team will be led by Weiss Schnee." Another round of clapping ensued, along with much whistling. I rolled my eyes.

Men will be perverts, in the end. Where did that leave me, you ask? Well, I'm not a man. I'm a sword, so suck it.

The four girls looked distinctly disgruntled by the catcalls. Well, Weiss looked disgruntled. Nora, the orange-haired airhead I'd knocked out in the forest, was utterly oblivious to the teasing shouts headed her way. Yang took it all in stride, laughing and flirting with a few of the boys in the front row, while Pyrrha just sighed and frowned slightly, as if it happened to her a lot. They lined up next to us when Ozpin announced team CRDL.

The ceremony spent a good twenty or so minutes to pass through, in which a full eighteen teams were announced and added to the school roster. As the first team, we were dismissed for dinner and sleep first. I wolfed down my food, much to Ruby's amusement. A shower sounded very nice all of a sudden, almost as satisfying as punching Kirei in the face, or punching Gilgamesh in the face, or punching Shinji in the face, or punching-

...You know, maybe I needed a less violent solution to stress. Punching things doesn't always get the job done.

Team SRBR walked along the hallways, chatting aimlessly. I was half lost in thought, half talking to Ruby about cooking arrangements. It turned out the girl was quite the chef as well. My other thoughts were preoccupied by the reasoning behind Mr. Dawn's appearance in this world and Ozpin putting me in charge of a team. First and foremost, my thoughts were drawn towards the room in front of us.

I didn't know when we'd stopped, but I was in a standard college bedroom, like the private ones in the Hokkaido prefecture. Four beds were lined up in the corners leaving very little room for maneuvering. Ruby frowned.

"We're not gonna have enough room for all our stuff," she complained. I absently nodded in agreement, while Blake and Ren both made noncommittal sounds. I could use one of the corners as a bookshelf, holding my journals and studies. It would be easy enough to put a strong Bounded Field on them with my amount of prana, but the problem was twisting my affinity enough to put it there in the first place. Ruby's face perked. "Oh, how about bunk beds?"

"It could work," I admitted. I was traditional in my values, I acknowledged that, but if I was going to be sharing a room with two girls then bunk beds weren't so bad, were they? I moved to put my hands under one of the bedposts and pulled. The frames were surprisingly light, and in a few second the bed was stacked neatly above the lower. Ren gave me a nod and picked up the other one. While he was doing that, Ruby and Blake began sending out pulses of Aura to the wood. For what reason, I didn't know, but they looked like they knew what they were doing. Maybe Aura acted like a magnetic force when two opposite ones were present.

It sort of worked the way I'd thought it would. Instead of the Aura magnifying the magnetic property of the wood, however, it caused the wood to expand, small tendrils of bark and pulp stretching across the gap to seal the two pieces together. I watched the process, fascinated. My Structural Analysis was telling me that the wood was actually being infused Aura and growing, but that should have been impossible. Very few things could come back to life after dying, and through its lacquered shine, that wood was very much dead.

Then it hit me. Aura was called the "Wellspring of Life" in many of the texts I'd read through, so wouldn't it be possible to inject dead things with Aura to restore a modicum of life for a short time? Of course, it probably wouldn't work on a human, but with lives without complex souls like trees, doing something like that would be downright simple, if not consuming.

The wood stopped growing, and Blake and Ruby sat back, panting. Ren looked towards me, ready to start sealing the other one, and I stepped forward. Would prana do the same thing, or would it simply stay stagnant in this world?

I surrounded the Aura with my prana and slowly ferried it through my body. At first, it resisted, wanting to stay lethargic and sedate, but as it started moving it got back into a semi-rhythmic flow. I pushed a trickle through my fingers.

'Shit!'

I almost jerked my hand away, but remembered that Avalon was there to regenerate my wounds. I pushed more of the Aura into the tree. Before my eyes, my skin was literally beginning to char and blacken, but the wood of the beds was fusing together at a far faster pace than it had for Blake and Ruby. The first post was finished in approximately ten seconds, then we moved onto the second, third and fourth. Each time, the pain of pushing my life-force into another being doubled. In the end, I was clutching my wrist in a vain attempt not to spasm.

"Alright, that's done," Ren said, gasping for breath. He looked like his Aura had taxed him beyond what I'd thought was safe, but he bounced back a few seconds later. "That was pretty fast. Man, you must- Jaune, is that a burn?"

Blake and Ruby instantly perked. They peeked at my hand and gasped, one in a choke of blatant horror, the other in a hiss of warm breath. My skin had almost entirely burnt away, leaving half-blackened flesh and visible bits of bone. I winced. It didn't hurt nearly as much as I had in the Fire, but it was pretty nasty to look at anyway.

"That was because... of your Aura?" Ruby whispered. "But... but it's not supposed to do that! Aura is a shield, a protector, not some acid that lives in your body!"

Even as she spoke, Avalon burst into activity in a golden spray of light inside my chest. It wasn't visible beneath my shirt, but it warmed me nevertheless. The blood vessels in my hand were already beginning to seal and fuse together, and the flesh wouldn't be far behind.

"Relax, guys," I told them. Maybe it was just to sound cool, maybe it was a vain attempt to reassure them that I was alright. The threads of Avalon's refined, golden and healing prana raced up my arm, peeking out through my muscles. A few sparks glittered inside a hollow where muscle and tissue met, cascading my face in warm light. The girls looked mystified, and Ren was halfway to pulling out his weapons when my wrist pulsed with energy, and my flesh rematerialized before their eyes. "I'll heal up in just a few minutes."

Before, This would have taken several hours to heal, maybe a full night of sleep. Now that I had the prana to almost fully charge Avalon and keep it running constantly, however, it healed much faster than before.

I watched in fascination as the blood flow ceased completely and tendrils of prana took it over. Prana rarely had a physical form, only appearing as distortions of light occupying a space most of the time. It was Conceptual Weapons, things like Avalon that blatantly defied a basic idea of an object, that could force prana into a physical form to affect even Gaia and Alaya. The prana felt... slippery, almost like a sheet of silk, but smoother.

"What in the hell..." Ren's swear trailed off, his guns peeking out of his sleeves.

"Okay, that's getting uncomfortable," I groaned. The new skin prickled like it had when I transferred into Avalon, and I slowed the prana flow. The golden glow died down, becoming a faint shimmer on my fresh skin.

"Is that some sort of Semblance or something?" Blake asked. She picked up my wrist and examined my hand closely. There were still bits of flesh peeking out of the skin, but it had already mostly healed.

Alright, so I figured out something in regards to my Aura. It hates me a lot. Like, to the point that using it will start dismembering me from the bone outwards. It seemed like Aura was an antithesis to my prana, two opposing forces that accomplish the same effects. The bubbling prana inside my Circuits clashed with the pool of Aura hovering in my chest, waiting for it to make another self-destructive move. Surprisingly enough, the Aura pools seemed a little depleted, and unlike the times when I'd tried and failed to harness it before, anything that was lost was not refilled. My Circuits constricted just a bit more tightly around the Aura pool.

"Not exactly," I explained. "My Aura does some... weird things to my body. Whenever I try to actively use it aside from my Semblance, it damages me. It still fixes me up passively, though. For now, though, let's stop talking and start eating. I'm hungry, and I bet the rest of you are too."

As if it were timed, all four of our stomachs let out a grumble that could put Taiga's to shame. Despite the small snacks that some of the more adventurous students had managed to filch from the kitchens, I was still vastly hungry, and immediately made to find the kitchen. It was a quaint thing, small but very versatile. A single oven with burners, fridge, icebox and sink, with cabinets lining the top. I automatically Traced what I remembered from the rice cookers back home. Hopefully, the thing would work and not explode like the last time I tried cooking with Traced electrical materials in the old world. Energy as potent and free as electricity messed with prana, as it turned out.

Whatever force was governing Remnant clearly decided not to give me any trouble, as decided by a nearly perfect dinner. My only failing was a lack of choices in the pickled vegetables, but that could be remedied by a single trip to the city below. The four of us enjoyed a hearty, if a little salty, meal of soba with sliced duck, various arrayed vegetables and egg in a chicken broth. A little unconventional, but it worked well, and we all retired to bed with full stomachs.

Well, they retired to bed. I simply waited until all I could hear was even breathing and stood back up. It was hard to figure out when everyone was asleep. Ruby was easy, because she snored a little bit, but Blake and Ren had perfectly even breathing patterns even when fighting. The only signal I got of their slumber was Blake's occasional twitch and Ren mumbling incoherently. I slipped out of the comfortable bed and looked around.

The door was still slightly ajar from where I'd forgotten to close it, so I slipped away from our room with sock-padded feet and set out to find a suitable place to put my journals. Navigating the school was hard in the beginning, since the only wings I had ever been to were the dormitories and the assembly hall, but after a half hour I'd found my way around decently enough. There were several locked rooms I could have used to store my collection of knowledge, but only one found its way into my thoughts. The hinges, knob and lock alike were caked in rust, and had I not been able to Trace I likely never would have gotten in without slicing the metal frame off its hinges. As it was, I had to use my frequently-less practiced art of Projecting unique things to get in. A gold key stood in my hands as I fiddled with the lock, trying simultaneously to scrape off any rust that had accumulated inside the pins and tumblers and unlock it. After five minutes of trying, I managed it and peered inside.

The room was barely bigger than a broom closet, but the walls were lined with shelves and it looked like it hadn't been used in at least a decade. I quickly set to work stacking my journals on the shelves by alphabet. Nobody could read my journals anyway; I'd written them in Japanese as a precaution for anyone looking to undo the web of lies that was gradually enshrouding me. It would come back to bite me in the ass, I was sure, but there was no point explaining everything to my team when I'd lied my ass off to Jaune's parents throughout the entire summer.

I worked for another two hours, constantly changing and shelving my journals until they resembled what I had back at the Arc Greenhouse. By then, even my Reinforcement began to ebb, and I found myself tired. Staying up for a day or two with Reinforcement would keep me alert and fine, but bordering on three would leave even someone as heavily-caffeinated as Rin tired. The last leather-bound tome was pushed into place with a satisfying thunk and I nearly dropped right there. I pushed the bags back onto my back and, for one last precaution, placed a few Mystic Code-swords into the tile around the closet to deter anyone from noticing it. I'd have to come back every few days to replace them, and while I did that it would be easy enough for me to update my collection. With everything settled, I closed and locked the door and bolted back to my- our room.

I was asleep before I hit the pillow, dreaming of swords and fire.

* * *

The morning came all too quickly for my tastes. My first sign of light was a flicker of warmth against my eyes, but I ignored it in favor of turning around and snuggling deeper into my pillows. What was that dream about... Oh yeah, Sakura and pillows... really soft pillows...

That was when I promptly fell out of bed and landed face-first on the ground.

My small hopes at getting my dream back vanished, along with any feeling in my face. I sighed. Just my typical E ranked Luck.

I rolled over and opened my eyes, allowing them to adjust slowly to the sharp blades of sunlight stabbing into the room. Almost without effort, I glanced over to my team. Ren was sleeping soundly on the top bunk across from mine, in the exact same position as he'd fallen asleep. Ruby was below him, still snoring, and now drooling slightly as she flailed around the bed in some sort of grotesque nightmare involving countless zombies. Or a karate match. One of those two. Blake, meanwhile, was looking down from her place above my bunk. Her hair was slightly ruffled from sleep, but her golden eyes were alert and slightly worried, surprisingly enough. "You alright?" she stage-whispered. Ren twitched in his sleep, but didn't wake.

"Yeah," I said, closing my eyes again. It was too early, but usually "too early" meant "get to class". My body groaned as I pushed it up to a standing position. Even at sixteen, I was tall enough that Blake's bed came to eye level, and I met her gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine. You wanna hit the shower first, or should I?"

Blake tucked herself further into bed. "You go ahead," she offered. "I'm going to get a little more sleep in before we have to get ready."

"Sure. I'll tell you when I get out." She nodded and rolled over, and almost instantly her breathing evened out and her body relaxed. Having the ability to fall asleep in the blink of an eye would beat out Unlimited Blade Works anyday.

The shower was what finally woke me up, and as I blinked myself back to alertness, I realized that Avalon had been churning through prana all night. I shut the sheath off, despite the ability to constantly have it on. Whatever it had been doing was something I didn't quite want to know, but I started theorizing anyway. Was it using my prana to power the Legend of King Arthur during his battle with Gilgamesh? Was it energizing Gilgamesh himself? Whatever the reason, it was distracting.

I shut the water off and examined my face. It was growing back into Jaune's face from where it had stopped. My hair was another shade redder, now an almost burnt orange instead of the blond I'd started out with. My eyes had darkened again as well, almost blue again, just bordering on green for the moment. The tiny tuft of white hair from Projecting had spread further across my fringe, spiking up against my left temple. I was much leaner than Jaune had been when I first inhabited his body. Where before, his jawline and collarbone had been hidden by a thin layer of fat, they now stood out starkly along with the corded muscle of my neck and shoulder blades. Overall, combined with my height and neutral expression, I made for a fairly intimidating figure.

I stepped out of the bathroom and signaled to Blake. She seemed vaguely depressed at the idea of heading to the hot water for some reason. I ignored her probing gaze on the scar from Gae Bolg and pulled a shirt on my still-damp shoulders. A pair of cargo shorts and running shoes followed. I couldn't wear that kind of casual wear to classes, but I definitely would during my morning training. I walked out the door with a quick explanation to Blake and began my usual routine.

An hour later I walked back in, marginally more sweaty and smelling vaguely musky. The early-morning shower did well to mask most of the smell of my thoroughly sore body, but I'd still need another quick wash to get all the sweat out of my hair and skin.

Ren was awake, leaving Ruby the only one still sleeping. He nodded a wordless greeting to me when I entered. I returned it and turned to a clean-looking Blake in full uniform. "What's the time?" I asked. "Our first classes start at nine, and I don't want to be late."

Blake took a moment to check a small pocket watch attached to her uniform. "It just turned eight,"she announced. "We'll have just enough time to unpack and get to class if Ruby wakes up now. Jaune, could you do it?"

"Sure." Now, how to go about such a thing? I could shake her shoulder, plug her nose...

I picked her up bodily and rolled her off the bed and onto the ground. That workers too, much better than just plugging her nose. She was up and ready to charge in an instant. Her silvery eyes blinked listlessly. "Whazzat?" she slurred. "Ah, 'm ready ta take ya on..." Her body drooped, and she nearly fell asleep again before Ren and I could catch her. Okay, maybe it didn't work so well. Time for plan B.

"Ruby," I began seriously, "if you don't wake up now you'll never make it to Beacon on time."

That woke her up big time. She started, and the film over her eyes instantly cleared as they darted all over the room, racing to pack whatever belongings she could see. "Crap, gonna be late, gonna be late..." She trailed off when she saw us. Blake was raising an eyebrow, Ren valiantly held in a chuckle, and I admit that I had a tiny teasing smile on my face. Ruby's cheeks heated up like steel in a forge. "Let's forget I ever did that, alright?" she asked.

I shrugged helplessly. "I can't stop myself from remembering certain things at certain times," I admitted, grinning. "What would happen if I accidentally just blurt something out in front of Yang, I wonder?" Yeah, Gilgamesh was definitely rubbing off on me. What a disturbing thought.

"No!" Ruby was either unaware that I was having a go at her, or she didn't care, because that groan of anguish was most definitely real. I let out a small chuckle and turned back to my bed. I slipped out of my dirty, torn shirt and pulled on the button-up that Beacon had provided me with. After that came the tie, then the pants, and finally the blazer. By the time Ruby was off the ground, I was decked out in the same outfit as Ren. It was stiff and a little uncomfortable, but not to the point where it would significantly impede combat. I gave it a test stretch.

"So... What's on the schedule, boss?" Ruby asked. I pulled out my Scroll. After a few uses of Structural Analysis, some assistance from Ozpin and a bit of Alteration, I'd been able to configure the machine to key into my prana instead of my Aura. I swiped forwards a few times and brought up the schedules for first-years. Team SRBR was highlighted in a pale red color at the top of the charts.

"First, we've got Grimm Studies, followed by Ancient Human History and Arithmetics. Lunch is after that, and then we have a free period for an hour before we have our first official combat class. I think Glyn- erm, Professor Goodwitch said something about having a tournament bracket for our first class, just to get a general gauge of our abilities and to keep us interested during the boring study parts."

Ruby groaned at the thought of studying even more than in the classes we already had to. It did sound dull, but it probably wasn't that bad compared to the cram sessions I'd been attending prior to the Grail War. Maybe I could get a "Fake Janitor" job here too. It would certainly help to pass the time, and there weren't many limits to the kinds of things Structural Analysis could be used on. Hell, I might even be able to Analyze things I had in my memory, instead of just the present time. That would be all sorts of helpful, especially when creating a Magic Crest. I'd also have to find Ozpin and talk to him about Zelretch and Mr. Dawn at some point. During our brief meetings over the time I'd first come here, I'd only seen him for a total of fifteen minutes total. He only gave me enough time to tell me he'd be flaking out on the kids again, probably because the old Jaune would have flipped all kinds of shit over being stuck with children for several days.

"We have about an hour left before our first class begins," I told them. "Until then, why don't we get unpacked?"

There was a vibrant noise of agreement from the members of my team, and we all, set to work unpacking our things. My books were already set into their bookcase, so I only had a few things to shove into drawers and hang on the walls. I placed my clothes in their respective drawers inside the bedstand. Then came the hard part.

The picture with Lancer, Saber and the rest was in a Traced frame for the time being, so I propped it up on my nightstand. The picture with Berserker charging towards me was hung at the foot of the bunks that belonged to Blake and I, right above a small table that I'd probably be sitting at a lot in the next five years. The pictures of Saber and Archer, however, went on either side of the door. Archer's visage was oddly serene in the sparing sunlight, filtered and blocked by several layers of clouds. Even Saber, painted to be as accurate as possible, seemed soft-eyed when I looked at her. The King of Knights was cold and collected to everyone except for me, Rin and occasionally Taiga. Lancer was another exception as well, and in another universe, I think that if Bazett had ended up keeping Lancer's Command Seals and we'd teamed up with them instead of Rin and Archer, maybe he and Saber would have ended up falling for each other. Lancer was a good guy, even I could tell that, we just ended up on the wrong sides of the War.

Okay, now I wanted to punch Lancer in the face. It would be best to not think of a would-be friend and my Servant in a romantic situation.

I sighed and glanced at the portrait of Saber again. Her face was once again stern and relentless. Blake was inspecting it closely. She had few possessions that she'd taken with her, even fewer than mine. Mostly, it was just clothing, but I saw a warped orb resting on the nightstand and a stylized carving of a cat resting on one of the posts of her bed. "Did you paint this?" she asked.

I found myself scratching the back of my neck again, a sure sign that I was embarrassed. Of course, I could have told you that from the feeling of unnatural coolness in the pit of my stomach and the warmth in my cheeks. "Yeah," I admitted quietly. "It took a few tries, but..."

"It's good," she said. "If I might ask, who is it of?"

I paused. There was no way in hell I could pass Saber off as just a friend, but calling her my lover or girlfriend would garner a bit more attention than necessary. Using a cliche like "someone I cared very much for" would only serve to make Blake want to pry further.

"...A good person and an even better comrade." It was concise, but it got the point across that I didn't want to talk about it further. Thankfully, Blake got the hint and didn't push. Ruby, however... Well, she wasn't the brightest Circuit in the soul.

"She must have been pretty strong, to fight with you," she quipped. I could feel my spine involuntarily stiffening, and Blake's eyes flicked between the two of us concernedly. "I mean, you were really strong in the forest yesterday, and if she was that good, then you wouldn't-"

"Ruby, you might want to take a shower before class starts," Ren interrupted. There was ice creeping up my back, and my fists, because they were fists at that point, trembled slightly. The only reason blood wasn't spilling between my fingers was the fact that Avalon had unconsciously activated, responding to my anger with soothing pulses of healing prana.

Ruby, the wonderful girl that she was, simply nodded and headed off to the showers with a bright smile. I stood there for another minute, trembling, as flashes of the War splintered into focus. Lancer stabbing me, nearly getting torn in half, Saber collapsing, All the World's Evils ringing them like a mocking circle of agony. I forced those memories back down, invoking my Aria again and again. With each fire of the revolver, another Magic Circuit activated, repressing the emotions even more. Finally, the events trailed to a stop, and I closed down my Circuits with a deep breath. It was getting easier to control them, even with the Curse active.

A hand touched my shoulder, and I very nearly flinched before recognizing the cool, smooth skin of my partner. I opened my eyes. Blake was looking at me with worry and a hint of pity in her eyes. "Are you alright?" she asked. Her voice echoed, like we were in a tunnel.

I just gave her a sad smile and my usual answer when somebody asked me if I was alright. "Yeah, I am." I made to turn around, but something stopped me. To this day, I'm not entirely sure what it was, but I found myself incapable of moving my feet. "...She was stronger, you know."

"Hm?" Blake looked confused.

"She was stronger than me. By several magnitudes, in fact. Back then, I was so weak I probably wouldn't have been able to defend myself from a single Grimm. She came along, and so did Lancer, and everyone else. They... Well, they gave me a reason to be strong."

"

What was the reason?" Blake asked, her hand still on my shoulder. Ren had turned away, excusing himself from the conversation.

When I didn't answer, Blake took her hand off my shoulder. "Sorry if I went too far. I only meant to-"

"To live." I turned to face her. She was openly concerned. I hadn't seen that much emotion from her... well, ever. She was a stoic person, that much was in her very nature. To see someone so much like Saber hurt, but it also felt nice to remember that there were people worried about my well-being, even if I wasn't. "Back then, one wrong move meant death. Saber gave me a reason to be careful, and to make sure that I could save as many lives as I could while I'm alive, no matter the consequences."

I turned back to the door. "I'll be fine, Blake," I said. "Don't worry about it. What's done is done, and I won't look back."

'I have no regrets; this is the only path.'

* * *

**Alright, that's the chapter done! People are already going to have questions and complaints about me "retconning" Shirou's appearance, so I'll say it now: it was planned, certainly not a retcon, and it has to do with story elements that will be explained further in later chapters. Also noted is the Shirou x Myrtenaster pairing. If there are any artists out there, _that_ would be a greatly appreciated treat.**

**Alright, let's get to the reviews! I'll be taking a few from last time as well.**

**Tethriot: Now that I'm looking at it, I can definitely see the resemblance. I first saw Resonance of Steel in PoaWH, and I wasn't certain if it was a canon mechanic, so I used it in this anyway. Seriously, how did I miss that?**

**3000-Calorie-Diet: Your criticism is noted and appreciated to great extent. I'll be sure to use less text walls in the future. Thank you very much for the advice!**

**polarpwnage: Not quite sure if that's correct, since Gae Bolg is literally stopping time, reversing it, then changing something that, by nature, shouldn't be capable of changing to make sure it stabs someone in the heart. I can see how you would think it wouldn't, but at the same time doing all of that should be heavily taxing.**

**A Silver Dolphin: I'm really glad you noticed that. Like, really glad. (Not a typo though)**

**HE-Spec-Ops: Thanks for reading! Honestly, I started questioning myself about nineteen chapters in about the sexism subject when I started editing my earlier chapters. I went through them, and while I first thought I sounded sexist, the opposite most certainly seems to be true in RWBY and F/SN alike. Weiss is the only character I've come remotely close to bashing, honestly, because the Rule of Cool isn't going to apply here (for the most part). There are a ton of impracticalities in both canon sources, and I'm trying my best to do away with them in a somewhat realistic manner. Weiss' and Ruby's fighting styles, Weiss' heels and all the other things? Totally impractical. On the other hand, though, women seem to be elevated slightly more in the source materials. In F/SN, if you're a strong character you're either a Servant, an assassin or a woman *cough* heroines, Ilya, Bazett, etc. *cough*. In RWBY, the majority of Huntspeople-in-training are female, and aside from Jaune the males don't get nearly enough screentime. I was trying to flesh out the male characters a bit more since they get so little screentime in RWBY.**

**tl;dr: sorry about the sexism thing, even if I didn't mean to. It's true that I come from America, so sorry if I sounded sexist.**

**Vandenbz: Thanks for the typo list. Fixed them all.**

**To everyone who caught the "typo" about Shirou being orphaned: heh.**

**Sinarblood: Thanks for reviewing. I deleted the whole history bit, because it was unnecessary and a little stupid on my part. Also, thanks to your little notice on how many times Lancer could use Gae Bolg. I tweaked Shirou's stats a little to match that.**

**ThatOnePsycho: Rapiers can have blades for slashing, but Myrtenaster's clearly not one of them. Myrtenaster is a square spike, meant for stabbing and not slashing. I've used several rapiers of this type myself, and even though they can cause tears and slashes with the very tip the technique isn't effective at all unless you're a master or your opponent deliberately waits for you to attack.**

**That seems to be it for now. I'll be taking a vacation to London starting on the fourth of June and I'll be gone for a week. I still don't know if I'm taking my laptop yet, so if you see a pair of chapters posted that week you'll know. Keep reading everyone!**


	11. Adversary

**Welcome back to another installment of Remnant of Cursed Paradise! I've been feeling a bit under the weather lately, so I'm sorry if there are any typos or inconsistencies in this chapter. If you point me towards them I'll fix them as soon as I can. Also, I'm running a poll! If you missed it last chapter, I ask that everyone go to my profile and take a few seconds to vote on which fic I should write when I'm done with RoCP.**

**That seems to be all up here, so let's get on to the story!**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Adversary**

During the first week of school, I realized something important.

Class... was boring.

That was being said with actual Japanese cram school in mind. I expected Grimm History to be an intense study of the makings of the Grimm and their subspecies, as well as the tactics one could use to defeat them. Suffice to say, some of the teachers at Beacon first seemed almost as unqualified to teach as Taiga, who barely managed to keep her job in between all of her late-night booze binges and her intense "punishment" of students when they didn't do as they were told. She was qualified, yes, and she had a good heart about it, but that was about the extent that she was capable of teaching. This Peter Port was no different.

The first clue that I would honestly be better off learning the theory from a book was the fact that he was five minutes late for class, and when he finally did come through the lecture hall's doors, his hair was singed and smoking from some sort of violet substance. The second clue was his weapon, a crude cross between a musket and a battleaxe. It did fit his profile well, considering the circumstances, but the major design flaw came in the form of the axe blades being situated on the stock of the gun. What kind of person would do something like that? Did he want his arm severed at the shoulder every time he shot?

The class itself, however, was quite strange. There were already several accurate depictions of Grimm on the whiteboards, along with needle-thin descriptions of their movements, abilities and habitats. Peter didn't get into any of that. Instead, he went on a truly impressive tirade about himself as a kid being drafted to defeat a den of Beowolves and wrestling their leader to the ground with his bare hands. Said story lasted upwards of two hours, enough time for me to not only copy all of the notes on the board, but also to continue with my catalogues of my weaponry. Beside me, Ruby was being a general teenager, distracting herself from the boring lesson by drawing, making faces, and other such things. Blake had pulled out an orange book from her pocket and was silently flipping through the pages with a gradually reddening face. Root only knows what kind of horrors laid in that novel. My left was occupied by Ren, and he seemed like the only one in class besides me and one Pyrrha Nikos that was taking notes. While the girl was struggling to keep up with Peter's boisterous and fast dialogue, I could see Ren's eyes straining almost violently to track the letters on the board.

"And who amongst you think you are strong enough to embody these traits?" I snapped back to attention when a slender hand shot up in the row in front of me. Weiss was sitting exactly in front of me, her white hair blocking the lower portion of my view. Almost instinctively, my hand raised as well, and before I could pull it down again Peter's eyes had locked onto mine.

"Arc, why don't you give it a shot?" I stood just as Weiss turned. She looked unimpressed at my unintentional offer, and while Myrtenaster wasn't with her at the time, I felt genuine sympathy for the sword if she decided to relieve some stress through combat. I made my way to the center of the lecture stage. Peter wheeled in a box with a cloth draped over it. Although I couldn't see what was inside it, the sounds of honks and snarls were disturbingly similar to that of a pig's when its den was attacked.

"Let's see how you handle this!" Peter roared. He whipped the cover of the cage, revealing a dark Grimm. It was squat, and indeed shaped like a pig, but that was where the similarities ended. Most of its back was shelled by bony plates, much like some of the large Grimm I'd seen in the forest near the Arc house. Two foot long, jagged tusks ripped out of the Grimm's snout, curling inwards to form nasty home.

This was a Boarbatusk, and it looked angry. My respect for Peter Port went up several notches as I realized that everything I needed to know to defeat it was written in flowing script on the board to my right. So this was a test to see who was paying attention, huh?

It took one look at me and charged, its yellow-orange eyes blazing with fury. I stripped off my blazer and started Tracing.

To the average observer, Kanshou and Bakuya would have appeared in my hands after I'd vaulted over Peter's desk and pulled them out of a random cabinet. The Boarbatusk looked around, confused for but a moment, then relocated me and charged again. I jumped cleanly over its writhing form and tried to get a few hits in on its back. Kanshou and Bakuya dug into the plates, but the boar Grimm was moving too fast for me to fully cut through the armor, pulling out of the way before I could bury the Married Blades into its flesh. Nevertheless, I did elicit a squeal of pain from my enemy. I threw Kanshou at its retreating form. The blade sang through the air almost like it had a voice of its own, stabbing itself through the Boarbatusk's body to the hilt, nailing it to the floor with all the ease and practice of a master knife thrower. As it struggled, I stepped forward, Bakuya buzzing pleasantly in my grip. I raised my hand to deliver the final blow-

One moment it was lying on the ground, struggling feebly against the stopping power of Kanshou, the next, it was hurtling through the air at my face, curled into a spiny ball. I let out an admittedly high-pitched yelp and ducked. Kanshou clattered to the ground beside me, having been thrown out by the rotational velocity of the spinning Grimm. It had a long, jagged gash adorning its left side that constantly dripped muddled red ichor, but other than that it appeared no worse for wear, not even seeming to recognize the wound. I grimaced when it came back around and tucked into a ball again. I would need something with sheer stopping power. Nothing as strong as Rho Aias, thankfully, but Kanshou and Bakuya just wouldn't cut it.

Unless...

The Boarbatusk came flying at me again. This time I crouched in a manner vaguely reminiscent of Archer's style, but with none of the hole. I channeled prana to my back, Reinforcing the skin to become just a little softer than iron.

When the Boarbatusk made contact with Bakuya, I forced it upwards, making it slide along my back and off of Kanshou to tumble helplessly in the air. The prana injected into my back gave me the armor necessary to come out unscathed, but the boar wasn't so lucky. I released Bakuya at it in a full-body throw. the black blade appeared as nothing more than a faint, translucent circle, flipping end over end to sink into the Grimm's stomach with a nasty squelch.

Kanshou followed it a moment after, accompanied by another spurting noise. No reason to leave a job half-finished, after all.

Peter looked at me in approval as I turned to face him. "Good, very good," he congratulated. A light smattering of applause came from the other kids in the hall. "Great use of tactics and a fantastic sense of instinct. If I may, how did you hide your weapons in my drawer? I didn't see you put them in."

"I didn't," I replied honestly. "I always have my weapons on me, I just didn't want anyone to know where. Information about an opponent is the greatest key to defeating them."

Peter nodded again, looking more thoughtful this time. "Yes, I understand what you mean. You have a good heart, Arc. I hope to see you become a great Huntsman one day."

Just as I was about to take my seat, a bell rang from somewhere in the hallway's twisting depths. Peter frowned. "Oh, it seems we must save the rest of my story and a full analysis of Arc's battle until tomorrow. Have a good day, children."

We filed out of the classroom, most of the other students looking relieved that the class was over. The only people who didn't have a smile on their faces were Blake and Ren, although Blake's mouth kept twitching upwards, Weiss, who still looked a little miffed that I accidentally stole her thunder, and surprisingly, Nora.

"I wanted to hear more about the way Professor defeated that pack of Beowolves," she whined. Ren sighed and gave her a half-affectionate pat on the head, reassuring her that it would only be one day before the story was finished. That seemed to perk her up immensely, and she began chatting to both Pyrrha and Ren at about a hundred kilometers an hour.

Weiss was glancing curiously at me, curiosity on her face instead of her usual displeasure. "It is interesting," she began slowly, "to note that you say you have Kanshou and Bakuya on your person. Logically, weapons of that size can't be hidden on your form like that without showing a single sign of their presence. It must be hard to hide them so well."

"Well, yes, but I like to think I do a good enough job at it," I replied carefully. It was clear that Weiss was fishing for information, and according the absolutely normal tone she'd adopted, she was very good at it.

"Yeah, Jaune!" Ruby interjected. "That was so cool! How'd you do it? Is there some sort of collapsible mechanism inside the blade that makes it shrink, or is it hollow on the inside so it just crumples away when the blades aren't needed. But, that way we'd still be able to see the sheaths..."

"Maybe another time, Ruby," I laughed. It also served as a good distraction from Weiss' suddenly calm behavior, because soon Ruby had a small group of first years gathered around her as they discussed the various weaponry they'd been equipped with going out of Signal.

I noticed Weiss frowning lightly out of the corner of my eye, but didn't pay it any mind. SHe seemed to be a girl to frown a lot anyway.

* * *

Ancient Human History was a much more typical class than the Grimm History. Our teacher, a balding man with a brandy in his hand and a potbelly, started off with a review of the things the students should have learned at their last combat schools. It was all fairly recent for me, so I didn't have much trouble remembering any of the information on the review, but it seemed I was one of the only ones. Beside me, Blake worked quickly and efficiently, and I could see Pyrrha diligently going through the questions a few rows in front of me, but that was about it for people who were paying complete attention to the theories being discussed. Afterwards, he went through a few quick warnings before turning to the notes. Despite the knowledge I had from the review and the books in the library, I couldn't help but be fascinated by the richness of the ancient humans and their discoveries. Apparently, they used to be like the people back in Fuyuki, with modern technology and a fairly carefree environment.

Of course, that was when the Grimm came along and began an apocalypse. In the span of two years, the world had gone dark underneath all the blackness of the Grimm and their taint. Human society was all but destroyed, and it was only in the walls of places like the city that came to be known as Vale and the other bastions that any shred of human morality remained. They built up, as humans tends to do when threatened, a massive supply of weaponry and began an assault to take back their home. Thus was the city of Vale created.

The notes got me thinking about what kind of weaponry was used to conquer the kind of area that Vale occupied. It was almost perfectly suited for human habitation. A desert to the west, bordering the ocean, housed the industrial district, where ocean currents and desert heat were used to generate electricity for the city. The north, reserved for the upper class and commercial districts, were the least ravaged by the Grimm, as well as the most picturesque. To the east was Beacon and the residential district for obvious reasons, and to the south lay the agricultural district and the main gates for the walls.

The Black Walls, another amazing feature of this world's architecture, stood more than a hundred feet high, carved almost entirely out of a mountain range ringing the last refuges of humans on the continent. They were jagged, and "cleaning crews" had to come around more than twice a day to clear the wall's twelve mile length of all of the Grimm that had unsuccessfully tried to break through them. A trip to that would be in order sometime over the summer. I had been too busy speaking with Ruby and the others during the flight to Beacon to take a look out the window and see them, not that it would make a difference. Some portions of the world were literally masses of black shadow from all the Grimm infesting them, so it was understandable that looking out over the plains outside of Vale would be bleak and discouraged.

The professor started talking again, but I found my attention retraining onto Myrtenaster. It was confusing to see Weiss and the rest of team PYWN walk into the lecture hall with only seconds to spare, but that all changed when I saw the sword sheathed at her hip. It was hurting again, but nearly as much as the first time I'd seen it, or even my last encounter with her. The pain I was feeling through the link I'd established between us was diminishing with every encounter, but for what reason, I didn't understand. Maybe Weiss was finally shaping up and acting like a proper swordswoman with her sword? I glanced over the weapon again, imprinting the ideas of its creation in my head and sifting through its history. With every Analysis, the history behind the sword was getting clearer. I could glean farther back into its line of wielders than I had ever had before, but it still wasn't enough to look into its creation. All I could get from searching that far back was a vague sense of rushing water. A blazing wave of energy pushed me back after that. All I could hope for was that the sword would eventually share its secrets with me.

Under the tabletop, I Traced Myrtenaster, making sure to use my body to his the tiny flash of light that signalled my ability as the white rapier came to rest on my lap. The connection deepened ever so slightly, and under the vague impression of a conscious being there came muddle, drifting flickers of steel and thought. Metaphysical things I couldn't fully comprehend came and went, little snippets of life that rushed through the blade from the pommel and gathered at the tip before cycling back into the pommel. It was interesting, watching the sword think. Most weapons couldn't even tell friend from foe, but those with Resonance of Steel were special. Blades like Myrtenaster, who had a Resonance of Steel only matched by a dozen of the swords in Archer's arsenal of thousands, were full of a kind of life so different from humans it was fascinating.

Then again, I emulated almost the same brainwaves and thought patterns. It seemed that I really was a sword in the body of a human after all.

As if it could sense me (which it probably could), Myrtenaster's thought slowed to a stop, then tenderly reached out with a tendril of steely emotion and accessed my mental barriers. I lowered them, only briefly, just enough for the sword to get a taste of the mana I was exuding. It drank the power in, greedily at first, then slowly as its reserves filled, bubbling with-

Wait, reserves?

I ground to a halt in the process of examining its history once again, focusing so fully on the sword that I forgot to control my Reinforced Strength stat, which spiked into the D range before I could control myself again. the pencil I was holding took the brunt of the force, almost shattering at the pressure placed upon it. Myrtenaster had partaken of my prana, my life force. Instead of the energy soothing the consciousness inside the sword and dissipating, however, it focused into a single stream of energy and entered a pool of light buried in the base of the hilt. But swords didn't have those pools. Even the strongest of Noble Phantasms, such as Excalibur, were simply tools used to shape prana before ejecting it in the form of an attack. Swords didn't have Magic Circuits; it was against a sword's very nature to be its own being.

But here was Myrtenaster, the real Myrtenaster, drinking in my prana like water. And it was storing it as mana, inside a bona fide Magic Circuit. I scanned over Myrtenaster again, feeling for those things that I hadn't before.

Myrtenaster was completely and utterly different from what I first thought it was. At first, I ignored my Analyzed knowledge of it and believed it was made of very high quality, white-tempered steel. Instead, there was a blend of metals that I didn't even recognize that rippled through the blade like waves in a pond. From steel to titanium to flecks of diamond, there were some of the strongest materials that could currently be made inside the composition of the sword, along with more than fifty other metals I didn't know how to describe. A deeper look confirmed my last theory.

Myrtenaster didn't just have one Magic Circuit, it had thirteen. Thirteen Magic Circuits working at a capacity of about twelve units of prana per Circuit were lodged in a linear fashion inside Myrtenaster, running from the pommel to the very tip of the blade.

* * *

Blake watched Weiss move carefully, repositioning herself in her seat to get a better view of the sheath at her hip. Contrary to what she'd just seen Myrtenaster, the Schnee heiress' rapier, was sitting in its position at her side, dormant for the moment. But then, how...

Her eyes flicked back to Jaune's lap, where Myrtenaster also lay unattended. His pupils were dilated, and his green-bordering-on-blue eyes flicked back and forth as if in some frenzied thought. She saw a hand reach out to gently touch Myrtenaster's tip, and focused on both it and the real sword.

To her shock, the ring of steel that kept the real Myrtenaster sheathed began to reflect greenish light onto Weiss' uniform. The source of the glow was a series of faint green lines, spreading across Myrtenaster's blade and grip. She trained her focus on the two swords fully, her notes completely left in the dark. The fake Myrtenaster was glowing too, from a point where Jaune's hands touched and the lines originated. Gold gently replaced the green, and a new presence grew in the room, one that charged the air with the taste of steel.

Jaune's eyes closed, as if he were prepared to dive into a pool of deep, dark water. His breathing immediately slowed to match her own pace near-perfectly, and the lines changed once again, from gold to blue this time. A new presence joined Jaune's enhanced one, a heavy smell of fresh snowfall and peppermint that weaved in and out of the steel like a loom's string. Both presences suddenly died, and Jaune's eyes snapped open. For a second, his eyes changed from their shifting yellow-green color to a pure silver, like gleaming steel, before fading back to their original hue. He glanced down at Myrtenaster, concerned, and waved his hand over it.

The sword, instead of pulsing with energy again like Blake expected it to, vanished with barely a trace. The only indication that the sword had been there in the first place was a ghostly image of it that was dissipating into twinkling white light. Blake felt her eyebrows furrow even further. Something wasn't right here.

Was this strange ability her leader and partner had related to the light that had healed his hands earlier? She had detected a trace of something else there as well, a taste not unlike that of sunny air over a grassy plain that permeated the room. So, did that mean that Jaune had more to him than he would be willing to admit?

Her ears twitched, and Blake felt an inexorable curiosity rise within her. She was, after all, a cat, and didn't cats like mysterious things?

* * *

I allowed the presence of whatever being governed the laws of nature on this planet to unravel the false Myrtenaster in my lap. The creation of the fake sword allowed me to sympathize with the real one's existence much better than if I had just tried to without a conduit. It was the forging of the fake sword that allowed me to glean so much more from the real one. not only did it have Magic Circuits, it- no, she- had a functioning mind and the ability to generate od. It was a slow soul, but it was a soul.

It might not have been the first time I'd met a non-human with a soul, or even a non-humanoid with a soul, but it was most definitely the first time I'd heard of a sword developing one. Most animals didn't have souls as defined by the Magus Association, just a brain and a set of instincts that could somehow sense the leylines in the Earth and follow them to more habitable areas. The Gobi desert, for example, was utterly deserted because Gaia had completely abandoned it in favor of the flooding rivers to the east, in China. Leylines just seemed to flourish where people and animals could prosper. Or... maybe, it was the other way around, where the Earth flourished as the leylines grew and strengthened. It would certainly make sense.

The Magic Circuits inside Myrtenaster were a lot like the leylines in the planets, both Earth and Remnant. While there was a vast difference between the capacity of the three, they were starkly similar in construction. The Earth didn't have nearly as many leylines as it should have, most of them having been tapped dry by Magi years ago, and Remnant had a measly three, although all three of those were several times more powerful than even the Fuyuki leyline, which was suspected to be the strongest leyline on the planet by far. Myrtenaster's, by comparison, were dismally small but incredibly versatile. The soul inside her form probably couldn't handle a lot of prana, since it wasn't designed to channel a huge amount of it. In contrast, Myrtenaster's control over her prana was probably excellent, able to filter and refine prana to its highest and most efficient purity before releasing it.

What an incredible blade. I looked inwards, to that hill of endless swords, and manually stabbed Myrtenaster into the ground right next to Excalibur. As far as I cared, she deserved the honor.

The bell rang, and as I got up, I realized that Blake hadn't stopped staring at me. What, was she still concerned about me for some reason? Had she seen me Trace Myrtenaster?

I shook myself gently about that. Even if she had, she would come to me for an explanation. I would simply wait until she did, and not bring anyone other than my team into the truth behind my abilities. I had a semi-secret identity to keep up, after all.

Weiss was glancing at me as I left the classroom, an odd look on her face. She traced patterns on Myrtenaster's hilt as I stepped past, Blake and a chattering Yang close on my heels, but I didn't experience the feedback from the sword's customary jolts of pain. Was Weiss contemplating my words? Was I getting through to her and saving them both in the process?

* * *

Weiss didn't understand Jaune Arc. He was an uncouth man, that much was for sure, and his appearance seemed slightly different every time she looked at him. He was able to pull a pair of giant curved swords out of seemingly nowhere, was delusional enough to think that her Myrtenaster was an actual, living being, and... well, that was about it. There wasn't much more about him that really stood out. If it weren't for his strange combination of height and hair color, she doubted she would recognize him in the average crowd.

On the other hand, Jaune was a good person. He was kind, courteous, and he didn't speak out of turn unless there was something wrong with whatever was being said. Add to that his combat prowess, and Weiss found herself imagining that with a few years of training, he could pose a threat to her father's personal bodyguard.

Her mind drifted to other matters. Namely, the strange pulsing feeling she could feel in Myrtenaster's hilt as she caressed the length. It was almost like there was blood flowing in the sword through one giant vein. She had thoroughly checked the sword during Grimm History; the notes were easy enough, and there was no way that the bumbling buffoon who ran the class was actually spewing any knowledge worth knowing. Grimm were dealt with in facts and battle, not stupid fairy tales or stories of valor. There was nothing out of sorts with her sword, and in fact everything seemed to be working at optimal efficiency. Could it be possible that Jaune had something of use to say when it came to her precious rapier?

No, of course not. That would be preposterous. Myrtenaster was a sword and only a sword. That was all there was to it.

Hesitantly, she tested the Dust Injectors as Jaune passed, inserting only a tiny amount of red Dust into Myrtenaster's reactors. The blade glinted faintly with an unseen flame, but she disregarded that.

No, it was the slight wince that Jaune sported when she did so that caught her interest. Was he able to capture the hints of energy flowing through Myrtenaster's hilt? His Semblance was an unknown at that point, and it could easily be that he was a rare sensor. It would certainly explain why he thought that Myrtenaster was "hurting" when she used it; the sensation of fire superheating metal wasn't particularly pleasant, and if he was strong enough feeling that sensation as a sort of empathy would be possible.

Still, Weiss Schnee was not one to take the first explanation for a situation. She would look at the possible causes of each explanation and decide on the one that matched Jaune's behavior most thoroughly. It was the Path of Swathi, the school of thought that had been drilled into her by her mother from the moment she could talk. It had not yet failed her, and she had a feeling that it wouldn't begin to do so now. With naught but a flick of her wrist, her Scroll was pressed to her ear, a phone number already punched into the holographic screen. The dial rang twice, then a cool female voice answered, "Schnee Dust Company, personal offices. Who is this?"

"Melanie, it's Weiss. I need a favor." Weiss could almost see her longtime friend jolt with suprise. "I need you to look up everything you can on Jaune Arc."

* * *

When Weiss returned from wherever she'd walk off to, she was sporting a small smile, and her eyes didn't seem like the hard chips of a glacier they had before. She managed to smoothly integrate herself into our contemplation about Combat Practice. Ruby was animatedly explaining her fighting style to an interested Nora, while the rest of our little clique watched in amusement and added tidbits of information where we could.

"What about you, Jaune?" Weiss asked after a moment. "How do you fight? We know you use swords, a spear and a bow, but other than that we don't know much about you."

"Well..."

Her fingers drummed against Myrtenaster's hilt, sending a slight but rhythmic throb through the sword as she waited for an answer. I glanced down at it for a single millisecond, not enough for anyone other than a highly-trained Huntsman like Ozpin or Gillian to notice, and focused an apology through our strange link. It- no, she- accepted readily, understanding my intent almost instantly and taking... delight in its- her- owner's question? What a truly interesting sword.

"Fine," I told her. That wasn't what she expected, apparently. Her mouth twitched open slightly, and her eyes widened just a fraction before a glint of eagerness flickered to life behind her pupils. "You can figure it out during Combat Practice," I continued. That little, niggling bit of self-worth and pride that fought against my Distortion smirked inside the recesses of my mind as Weiss' face fell and changed from expectancy to bemusement.

Before she had a chance to pursue her inquisition further, Blake appeared behind me and dragged me away. I glanced around. Ruby and Ren were already at the end of the hall. "Let's go, Jaune," she admonished

"Sorry," I said. She stopped, satisfied with both my apology and the distance she'd put between me and Weiss.

"Let's get going," Ren said, clapping his hand on my shoulder. "I've heard form some of the older teams that the Algebra teacher is a hardball, and we've already wasted half of our time."

* * *

After Algebra, lunch came readily and happily. My stomach grumbled of its own accord as I sat down next to Ren. The cafeteria, a room that easily dwarfed the ballroom we'd slept in our first night, was split into six tables, each one the length of a football field. Ruby poked at the fairly healthy meal, picking off her lettuce with a look of disgust on her face. "Anyone want this?" she asked.

"I'll take it," I muttered, and soon there was a second salad on my plate. Ruby had left behind only her steak sandwich, potatoes and a cookie, something that the inner dietician inside me, painstakingly forged by Kiritsugu, Taiga and Sakura, went berserk about. I ignored it and dug into the meal. To my right, Blake was casually munching on a tuna sandwich, a book that looked strangely similar to the Legends of King Arthur propped open with a finger. She scanned the page idly, and if it weren't for the fact that I'd spent a lot of time around Rin, I wouldn't have been able to tell if she was actually reading or not. I leaned over her shoulder, trying to get a peek of the contents.

"...That can't be right," I muttered after a moment. Blake blinked, snapped out of her reading stupor, and glanced at me. The third paragraph on page thirty one described the way that Sir Pent, who I was assuming was the analogy to Sir Kay, would often cheat his way out of gambles and run off to Camelot with the money as a gift to the Royal Treasury. The thing was, Saber herself had told me that Kay was nothing less than an honorable fellow, always keeping his promises no matter what happened to impede his progress. According to history, he had committed suicide several days after Saber was slain by her daughter. Saber had choked up for a good while after that, and it took Rin displaying one of her rare compassionate moments and consoling Saber for nearly a half hour before she'd come out of the dojo.

"What do you mean?" Blake asked. She glanced at the paragraph I was tracing with my finger. "According to the history books, Sir Pent would often steal from the peasants. He was known as the "Thief Knight" later in life because his skills in robbery were so great that he would sneak off to enemy territory, disguise himself as a soldier of the opposing army, and win all their rations in a series of gambles. It's the reason why gambling was outlawed by the Vale and Atlas militaries more than six hundred years ago."

"But that doesn't fit in with his character," I argued. There were obviously subtle differences in the legends here and on my old world, but it seemed that Saber's legend was so great that it spanned even into alternate realities. Not without a few minor differences, of course, such as Excalibur being forged by a legendary Faunus smith as the holy blade Escalvatine, but overall the basis of the legend was the same. "There's no way the King would continue to employ such a thief as a knight, even if the knight in question was of blood relation. The King had a notorious mistrust of his own blood, I believe. No, Pent was as honest a person as the King, probably more so."

As Blake and I continued to discuss the legitimacy of the legends about The Nameless King, Ruby and Ren had started their own conversations. I must admit, Ren was a fantastic listener, because he not only tolerated all of Ruby's random tangents, but even excused her whenever she realized she'd gone on one. Sure, most people would do the same thing out of principle, but there was a hint of patience hiding behind his magenta eyes that seemed ever-present. He definitely made for a good martial artist, and a natural attention span and near-godlike patience from having to handle Nora for presumably years would only increase his abilities further.

"Yes, but Sir Raff would probably be a fantastic fighter as well as a chaste individual," Blake argued. I frowned. Galahad was certainly depicted in the legends as chaste, and Saber had told me he wasn't nearly as debaucherous as the other knights in her care, but that didn't mean he wasn't a typical knight, either.

"I wouldn't doubt the limits of his swordplay. He did kill the king's traitorous daughter after all. The trouble I have with this legend is him being chaste to the point where even a kiss between husband and wife was enough to make him 'blush and turn away'. That's just overkill."

"Afternoon, everybody!" I turned. Yang had plopped herself down on Ruby's right, carrying an assortment of foods that would probably give a normal person a combination of high cholesterol, diabetes and a good three times their daily vitamins and minerals. Nora made a beeline for Ren, who looked both annoyed that his brief reprieve of the redheaded girl was interrupted, and relieved that he was in a more comfortable zone with her. Pyrrha slowly and deliberately took her seat next to Nora. The little, inner me smirked contently at the wide array of (admittedly) delicious foods spread across her tray. Weiss dropped her nearly-covered-in-green plate next to Pyrrha and gave me an angry glare.

"Whatcha doin?" Nora asked. When I explained the conversation we'd been having, she gave me a thoughtful frown. "hmm... Jaune doesn't seem like a historian, though. You seem more like a thug!"

A thug? A... was she serious? I mean, I was pretty tall in this body and the rippling effect of the almost-green hybrid of our eyes gave me a piercing glare, but I hardly think that counts as thug-like.

"She's right," Weiss said snidely. "Everything about you, from your mannerisms to your clothing, screams 'ruffian'!"

"Rude," Ruby muttered. Weiss rolled her eyes.

"I'm just saying what everyone's thinking." You know, I'm starting to think my Luck is even worse than E-, because nobody spoke up in my defence after that. Blake, her good mood seemingly ruined, turned back to her book with a barely visible nod towards me. I started up a casual, if not slightly stiff, conversation with Pyrrha as the time ticked slowly by.

* * *

**Well that's that! To be honest, not a lot happened here in terms of time passing. We've developed a fairly important character further, done a bit of exposition on how prana works for nonliving creatures, and given Weiss a reason to research Jaune Arc further. Next chapter will see the possible introduction of another Type-Moon character (sorry, still not Jackie). To the people who actually think ShirouxMyrtenaster is going to bee the pairing of the story- and I've already gotten three PMs about this- it's not. Shirou will be paired with someone, and I can't say who yet, but it's not going to be a sword.**

**Now, onto reviews!**

**SwindledInSweden: Thanks for the tip! I'll fix it when I have the chance, but it may not be for at least a week. I've got graduation and college placements to go through, then I'm leaving for London for a week. I'll try and go through this, though. As for the switch, I thought I'd gotten all of these (they're typos). If you could point me to the offending areas, I'd be grateful.**

**Charasu Ondore: Funny pairing, but not gonna happen. It's the same reason I don't like people shipping Ruby with Ozpin and Roman. It just seems pedophilic, and as much as people will argue that it's true love, I draw the line at Shirou Emiya lovingly caressing a nine year old murderess. Sorry, pal.**

**Guest: I don't know where you got that information, but it's almost entirely false. Beacon seems to be analogous to college, and as far as I'm aware age has _never_ been discussed within RWBY canon. The most popular fanon is that all of the first years except Ruby are seventeen, while Ruby herself is fifteen. I took a few liberties with Jaune being sixteen in this case, but I still think he doesn't fit the part of college student- maybe a senior in high school, but not college.**

**Scrumptious Egoi &amp; ARSLOTHES: heh.**

**Vandenbz: I really can't thank you enough for recognizing this. Most of the girls' character developments in canon's first season are based on which team they're on and what positions they hold. Weiss isn't going to drop that cold nature so quickly, Ruby isn't going to mature as much as she does in canon, and Blake isn't going to feel as pressured and tormented by her heritage because the members of her team all actually accept her. People are undoubtedly going to give me shit about this later, but thanks so much for recognizing it now.**

** &amp; wolfzero7 &amp; Fateful Archer: Originally I was going to go for SBRR, then the StRawBeRry and SheRBeRt options came into the mix. In the end, I decided to forego the scene with Shirou pretty much having a minor breakdown about his team name in favor of honoring Monty's Color-Naming rule. It's the least I can do for the guy that brought us such a fantastical series. PWYN I didn't have much of a chance with. If anyone figures out a color name with the letters PWYN in it, please tell me and I'll change their name on the double.**

**Victory3114: Well... actually, no, that was just bad writing on my part. I do imagine that Saber had enough Charisma in her to naturally command the attention of a room even in picture form, though.**

**That seems to be it for now. Only one more post before I might take a week's hiatus. There's always the chance though. Also, don't forget to vote. I'm honestly leaning towards the FSN/The Gamer fic myself, if only to reinforce my knowledge of FSN for the non-crossover fic.**

**EDIT: Fixed a few typos. Thanks, SilverIceRing.**


	12. Defensive

**Hello everyone, and welcome back to Remnant of Cursed Paradise! Only one bit of news before we get started: this is going to be posted very, very early Tuesday morning for people in the EST zone. Probably not even one o'clock. I've had to deal with college placements for the past few days, and to add on to that I finished my commencement ceremony not four hours ago, so yeah. **

**That's it though, so let's get to reading!**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Defensive**

When lunch had finished I stood up and put a plan into motion, a plan that had been at the back of my mind since the beginning of my visits with the orphanage. It was time to get something cleared up.

I told Blake that I'd be on the seventh floor until Combat class began and stalked towards the stairs. Ozpin's office, a place where normally only the oldest students and teachers were allowed, automatically opened in front of me. the scent of stale, rusty air filled my nose.

Ozpin's room, true to his emblem, was made almost entirely of gears. There were interlocking segments on the walls, floor, and even on his desk and chair. Ozpin himself looked up from a small stack of papers with a pleased glance. "Ah, Shirou. What can I do for you today?"

"I need you to tell me everything you can about a Mr. Dawn. He sometimes visits the orphanage."

Ozpin frowned. "How important is this? There are many people in Vale with the surname of Dawn, and more across the seas in Vacuo and Mistral."

"He's from my world, and I think he has the means to get me back and transplant me back into my old body."

That got Ozpin's attention. He sat up straighter, putting his coffee cup down and pushing the papers out of the way. With a snap of his fingers, a second chair made of gears rose up from the floor in front of him. "Have a seat," he said, "and tell me everything."

I told him. I told him about the Burial Agency, its policy of hunting down Dead Apostle Ancestors, and Mr. Dawn. Whatever his power, if he had the pull to utilize at least a small part of the Kaleidoscope or the connections to get Zelretch to teleport him between here and my old world a few times a year, he wasn't someone to be trifled with. That went just as well with the rest of the Burial Agency, since they had a very strict selection process and, so far as Rin and I knew, there were only eight members. Including the deceased first, Ciel the seventh and Mr. Dawn, that left five, one of which I was fairly sure was an Apostle.

"Let me get this straight," Ozpin said once I'd finished. "You're telling me that someone from your world pops into the Lumen orphanage occasionally, using dimensional powers that can only be used by one person in existence. This Mr. Dawn is a member of a secret organization from a religious branch, codenamed the Burial Agency, and is charged with killing vampiric creatures of incredible power that only people of my caliber can match. This Mr. Dawn may or may not also be connected to the Holy Grail War you mentioned, correct?"

I frowned. It certainly would make sense that the Church would send somebody other than Kirei to oversee the Grail War, but it probably would have been an Executor, not one of their fighting elite. "Not exactly," I replied, "but the Church probably would have been careful enough to leave the overseeing of the operation to someone who wasn't as psychopathic as Kirei Kotomine."

"This is a very serious problem, and I thank you for bringing it up with me," Ozpin said. He turned his seat around and stared around the wall-sized window lined with gears. The image on the other side, a perfect image of the city of Vale, was oddly still in the noontime light. "Have you ever considered that this Mr. Dawn has been coming here to track one of your Dead Apostle Ancestors? That maybe the Grimm are being created by one of the Apostles?"

"Preposterous," I denied immediately. "There are only twenty seven in existence, and once one has died they're replaced within a year, at most. There's no way one of them could have gotten away from the Burial Agency's sights unless they were dead. Unless they... were... dead..."

Oh no. Oh, no no no. This was not good.

Of the twenty seven Dead Apostle Ancestors, only nine of them had ever died, and of those nine, only three had unrecoverable bodies. The first was ORT, the Type-Mercury that landed on Earth nearly three millennia before I was born. Nobody was quite sure what happened to the body after it had been stabbed by at least a thousand Black Keys and finished off with an imperfect replica of the Gae Buidhe, the Rose of Mortality. Most people believed it to have disintegrated from the overwhelming amount of prana used to defeat it, on par with one of the Einzbern's larger experiments. The second was The Dark Six, a conglomerate of dead babies renowned as the Original Dead Apostle that was sealed into Gaia after its first defeat. The reason that the existence of exactly twenty seven Dead Apostles was crucial was due to the ritual used to revive it and give it form, the Aylesbury Ritual, needing twenty one reagents and five overseers to ensure a successful summoning. The third, Nrvnqsr Chaos, had just up and vanished. The thing was, he had a strange power. As a sort of primordial soup, he had the ability to spawn creatures representing darkness and hate from his body.

Creatures, coincidentally, almost exactly like the Grimm. If Nrvnqsr was here, and he was creating Grimm, that was a very big problem that almost certainly required the presence of a Burial Agency member, possible even two. Not that this Mr. Dawn couldn't handle anything like an Apostle, but I'd fought against Ciel for several battles, so at least I knew what I was getting myself into if I teamed up with her to destroy the Apostle. Mr. Dawn was a complete unknown. For all I knew, he could be the one pacifistic Burial Agent that everyone in the Clock Tower supposedly made fun of.

"I was afraid of that," Ozpin muttered, hunching over. "You said that people in my class of power can combat the Apostles?"

"Don't." My reply was curt and immediate. "I don't know the full scope of any of the Apostles' abilities, aside from Arcueid Brunestud. Even when the Executors and the Burial Agents go on an Apostle Hunt, they research into the Apostle's past history and abilities extensively and prepare for anywhere from three weeks to three months. If you went in there unprepared and unfocused, you'd be eviscerated in an instant. Besides, if the Apostle I'm suspecting is actually here, you would barely come out of it alive anyway, even with three of you. Nrvnqsr Chaos is probably the fifth most powerful Apostle in recorded history, not including the Types or the Princesses."

Ozpin growled, a deep noise that rumbled in the back of his throat and set the hairs on the back of my neck on end. "So I can't do anything about this?"

"I'm not saying that." I quickly brought his anger down with an explanation. "I'm saying we might have to find Mr. Dawn and get him to pull another Burial Agent to help bring him down. I'm pretty sure that the two of us together could hold him off for a few minutes. If I pull out Excalibur and Vasavi Shakti..."

"Excuse me?"

I blinked. "Ah, sorry. They're two of my most powerful Noble Phantasms. I suppose one of my mortality-inducing Noble Phantasms would work well, too, but I probably won't be able to get close enough to him to use them. They require a bit more concentration to effectively use."

Ozpin stared at me for another moment, his hard gaze only turning away from me when he checked a screen built into his desk. "you might want to get to your class," he said finally. "Glynda doesn't take well to tardiness. I'll keep an eye out for Mr. Dawn, and both for this Ancestor."

I could only nod to his clipped tone. As I left, I was bombarded with more questions about the burial Agency, the Ancestors, and whatever the Grimm were than I ever thought I would need to know. Maybe this was just the Curse of the Dweeb swinging my Luck straight in the E- zone again.

* * *

Glynda Goodwitch, I learned, was not a happy person in general. She was strict, she was concise, and she did not tolerate any foolishness whatsoever.

So when I walked into class just as the bell was ringing, she gave me the harshest glare she could muster, something that very nearly matched one of Rin's, and turned back to the rest of the class.

"Welcome to Combat Class," she said clearly. "In this class I will be teaching you how to fight against other intelligent people, not the Grimm you will be expected to exterminate. Not only is this much more dangerous than most other classes, it also the only one besides Grimm History where you will be able to carry your live weapons." She paced back and forth as she spoke, just like one of the Western Schoolteachers from the fifties' era movies. "In the next five years, I'll be the one shaping you from the people you are today to the Huntsmen and Huntresses you will become. Today, however, we'll just be performing battle tests to determine your ranking. Your rankings will not earn you any concessions, but the higher-ranked students and teams will be able to take higher-ranked missions, and thus earn more spending money. You may also pay your tuition costs with whatever money you earn on missions."

Nearly everyone perked up at the idea of getting extra money, and I had to admit it was an intriguing concept. Since the money received came from an outside source, Beacon didn't have to pay the students a dime, and they'd get tuition from the work the students were doing themselves to graduate. It was an efficient system, even if it was one that screwed us students over if we didn't have enough to pay the tuition fees in the first place.

"Alright, we'll begin now. I trust you all brought your weapons?" On cue, I Traced Gae Bolg and EMIYA's bow. "As the highest-ranked student in the first year class, why don't you come up, Jaune Arc?"

The crowd parted as I walked towards the stage. They were all looking at me, not a single gaze wavering, filled with emotion from jealousy to awe to determination to loathing. It didn't matter. Only my opponent did.

"And as for your opponent..." Glynda flicked a finger, and the display on her Scroll shot downwards, resting on a familiar name. "Weiss Schnee, please step forward."

Muttering broke out among the crowd as Weiss took the stage. In hindsight, it was a controversial battle, to say the least. After all, it wasn't every day that you say practical royalty face off against someone, even if someone like me who could defeat her.

And I could defeat her. I knew it deep in my bones, that when she went for the kill, she would hesitate. I wouldn't. It turned my stomach, but I wouldn't. I would fight with everything I had, even if she held back to avoid killing me, and that was where she would fail.

The curiosity boiling in Weiss' eyes was tempered by a satisfied smirk, like she expected to win. Glynda probably knew that I'd beat her, judging by the look in her eyes. It appeared, however, that Weiss didn't understand when she was outclassed. I was nowhere to the level of a Servant, but even with my half-trained swordsmanship and the few spear skills I'd been able to glean from Gae Bolg's history, I'd be able to beat this girl.

"If you're both ready," Glynda said. I nodded curtly, and Weiss hummed her agreement. "Begin!"

Weiss darted forward, just like when we'd fought in the forest. Myrtenaster hissed through the air, her blade flickering with the artificial light shining above us. I batted her away with the haft of Gae Bolg and leapt back, positioning myself perfectly so that a wide hole in my guard would be easily visible to Weiss, just under my armpit. She took the chance. Myrtenaster just barely pressed against my skin when I brought the Spear of Scathach down on its triangular blade, knocking it downwards and pulling Weiss in closer. I swiped up, scoring a small hit on her cheek and creating a line of pooling blood on the otherwise perfect skin. She snarled in pain, but not a second later, her Aura activated and cauterized the wound, along with the spidery black lines that signified the curse it held.

She jumped back and looked for a new hole in my guard. I provided her with one, in the hollow of my throat. She bolted for it. Just like before, I pulled Gae Bolg down to meet Myrtenaster at the last second. The steel and demonic iron screeched against one another, and a hiss of pain emanated from Myrtenaster. I winced.

Then Myrtenaster started screaming, and I understood exactly why the Dust hurt so much.

A blaze of fire erupted from tiny pores in Myrtenaster's steel, heating the metal to an unpleasant orange-red color. Myrtenaster's whimpers and sobs, for they were indeed whimpers and sobs, chilled me to the core. "Let go of her!" I snarled involuntarily. That urge to protect, to defend the helpless from the oppressors rose up once again, and I hefted Gae Bolg into a familiar stance. Out of the very edge of my vision, I could see Blake's eyes widening, her face curiously devoid of any color.

Prana surged though my body like the blood in my ears, and I began to incant when Weiss launched herself forward. A lance of heat erupted in my face, forcing me back to something resembling a stable mental state and leaving me to duck in desperation to avoid what would definitely cause a severe burn. I whirled around the stream of fire and lashed at Weiss' head once again. she yelped to duck, but by then I was already moving. Even as the cylinders on Myrtenaster's guard shifted, I was whipping the butt of Lancer's legendary lance at her knees. She crumpled to the floor in a backwards somersault, but I was quick enough to take to the air and avoid the razor point of Myrtenaster's blade.

My Thaumaturgy was weak, and it made me little more than a liability anywhere but in battle, but I'll be damned if it didn't make me good in battle. That most definitely showed in the hot streak of red light that burst to life in my hands. It wasn't anything like the heart-piercing effect that would doubtlessly kill Weiss; rather, it was more of me Altering the lance and bringing out the latent curse within the iron, using it to its fullest potential. It wouldn't kill Weiss, not with the amount of Aura she had left, but she had pushed me a little during our brief struggle and if I didn't end it then and there, the only thing I would accomplish would be wearing myself down further.

A gleaming white dome of ice appeared around Weiss when she stuck Myrtenaster into the ground, trying to block my attack, but when Gae Bolg's blinding red light struck it, the barrier shattered as if it were glass. Her eyes wide, Weiss only had a second to look on in horror as the spear came closer, and closer, and closer. The Aura in her body leapt to her defense, forming a shimmering, misty wall with its power. It still wasn't enough to completely stop Gae Bolg, and wherever it touched the Aura, the legendary spear would simply obliterate it. Up on the billboard high above us, Weiss' Aura gauge dropped down so suddenly I wondered if the machine was malfunctioning. It skipped over yellow completely, going from just over seven-eighths full to hovering around a fifth. Gae Bolg finally met the end of its attack, and it returned to its spear form in my hand, humming in satisfaction. I realized with a tiny grunt that the endeavor hadn't left me unscathed, though; there were several small cuts dotting my face and arms from the shards of the shattered shield. two giant chunks of fallen ice lodged in my spear arm, leaving me barely able to handle Gae Bolg.

Glynda watched the both of us for a minute, like she was expecting something else to happen, then turned to the other students. "As you can see, boys and girls," she gestured to the board above us, "Miss Schnee's Aura has gone into the red, meaning that she isn't fit for battle and must be kept out of the fight if- Miss Schnee, what are you doing?!"

I turned, just a second too late. Ice flickered into my vision, skewering my left hand and arm. Gae Bolg dropped uselessly to the ground. With my arm pinned to the ground by a glorified icicle, I could only watch, unfocused with the shock of it all, as the white glyphs inscribed on Myrtenaster's blade began to glow once more. Weiss darted forward. Glynda moved as well, ready to intercept, but she wasn't fast enough to stop the speeding bullet that was Weiss Schnee. I couldn't hear anything from my degrading link with Myrtenaster, no pain, no elation.

Millimeters away from my skin, Myrtenaster stopped. Weiss continued moving, barrelling into me, while Myrtenaster hung suspended in the air, shining a brilliant white. The glow subsided, but she did not drop. Rather, Myrtenaster seemed to float into my bloodied hand, bobbing downwards as if she were no lighter than a feather. My impact with Weiss tore the ice from my arm, and as the adrenaline from the fight subsided and the shock wore off, I barely managed to bite down on a gasp of pain. In my arm, there were two gaping holes. The smaller of the two, only about an inch in diameter, had pierced right next to the major arteries in my wrist, while the second one nearly skewered my elbow. I could comfortably fit three fingers in that one, most likely, and still not touch the hypersensitive flesh. Both were freely flowing blood, but that didn't matter, and neither did the pain. No, it was Weiss I was worried about.

She was standing over me, torn between looking horrified and ashamed, her eyes darting from my injured arm to Myrtenaster, never once looking me in the eyes. The sword buzzed contently in my hand, emitting a glow so soft that the only way I could see it was to watch the shadows in my cupped hand. The pain, intense as it was, dulled slightly when the prana directed to Reinforcing my body was filtered through Avalon.

"Miss Schnee, what was that about?!" Glynda's voice, laced with venom and disbelief, shattered the silent atmosphere. "Attacking a sparring partner, with the intent to kill no less, while his back is turned? If I could, I would have you expelled this instant!"

Finally, Weiss seemed to realize just what had happened. She jumped off of me, grabbing Myrtenaster on the way with a surprisingly subdued hand, and faced Glynda. I moved to stand, but before I could do it myself, Blake was on stage and helping me up. I could already begin to see the regenerating muscle through the waterfall of blood dripping off my arm. "Don't," I called tiredly.

Glynda looked up sharply, eyes ablaze. "Excuse me?" she asked.

"Don't. you never called the match to end, professor. It was foolish of me to turn my back against such a skilled opponent, even for a second."

Blake looked at me sideways, an expression strangely similar to disbelief in her eyes. Glynda's mouth opened, closed, and opened again. "I... I suppose you're right, Arc. I never did call an end to the match, so even if the attack was made in cold blood," she shot a withering glare towards the already downtrodden Weiss, "I can accept it if you will. Fine then. There will be no punishment for you, Miss Schnee, but remember this: I will not tolerate any further actions made out of spite from you, or anyone else. Understand?"

Weiss nodded miserably. The crowd parted before her as she stepped off stage, whispering to each other about the outcome of the match. Blake led me off stage and seated me next to Ruby, fussing over my arm.

"It'll be fine," I told her. "Remember? I can heal it. It'll just take a little more time than a burn." True to my words, Avalon was already in the process of fixing the holes the ice had skewered in my bones. She and the rest of my team looked over with worry, but I waved them off. "Seriously, I'll be fine. Besides, the next match is coming up."

Glynda still looked like she wanted to fry something with just her glare, but she held off, instead stabbing at her Scroll with a finger. "The next match will be between Ruby Rose and Cardin Winchester. Please take your positions on the stage."

Ruby stood, and casting a last worried glance at my arm, took her place on stage. Cardin Winchester, on the other hand, swaggered up there as if he didn't have a care in the world.

He was a large person, obviously muscle-bound, and if I had to relate him to someone, it would be a mini-Berserker with the personality of Gilgamesh. Even from his behavior at the meals we'd all been to, he was a typical, bullying jackass, picking on the Faunus population that didn't fight or looked too small to defend themselves. He was undoubtedly strong, probably at a basic E- rank, or about five times human strength, when he was channeling his Aura. In comparison, when the Curse of the Dweeb wore off I would be about six times stronger than that, at an Archer's basic Strength level. I suppose it made sense in a way, that people who had been fending off the "forces of darkness" for several generations would be stronger than the humans of my world.

Ruby, on the other hand, was already at an E rank Agility when she was channeling her Aura, and from what she'd told my team of her Semblance, that went straight up to D while she was going all out. She would be a hard target to even hit, much less defeat. The fact of the matter was that she was designed for speed and momentum, and her scythe perfectly reflected that style of fighting.

"Begin!" Glynda called. Ruby shot off with the force of a cannon, unfurling Crescent Rose in an instant and bringing a blurring attack down on her opponent. Cardin brought his mace up, blocking the blow with sheer force of will and muscle. The two forces canceled each other perfectly, and Ruby leapt back, firing her high-velocity bullets backwards to gain a bit more momentum. Her fighting style was filled with wide, swinging sweeps. It was... boisterous, for lack of a better word. Her scythe was always aimed towards a specific spot, making it easier to track and subsequently block, but on the other hand there was so much centrifugal force behind the blow that it made Cardin pressed to move in time to block them. In turn, he used sheer brute strength to knock Ruby back, throwing her clear from his reach with the three blows he did manage to get in. Ruby managed to shake them both off.

I blinked. I was expecting finesse, true mastery of a style of attack. there was strength, speed and tenacity there, but... no skill. Hell, Saber did extraordinarily better than these people ever would, even at our age. Then again, Saber had both Eye of the Mind (True) and Eye of the Mind (False), as well as a natural E rank strength stat after her full maturity. She was practically born to be a Heroic Spirit.

Where was the fluidity, the simplicity? Every one of their attacks was made to be as showy as possible. There were too many wasted movements, too much energy expended with each strike. Ruby was already beginning to look tired, and she hadn't even been fighting for five minutes!

I glanced up at the billboard displaying their Auras. Cardin's was down about a quarter, while Ruby's had dropped to around two thirds. Cardin obviously had the advantage in the match, not only because of his heavy armor but because of his abundance of Aura. He probably had more than Ruby did, which made her fighting style not only a liability but a fatal problem if it wasn't corrected by the time we started taking on missions constantly.

Finally, thankfully, Ruby managed to get in a strike powered by the full force of her Aura and the momentum provided to her by her high-recoil bullets. Cardin was sent flying off the stage, landing in a circle of confused and awed first years. Ruby leaned on her scythe tiredly. Glynda looked up at her, then at her Scroll. "Alright, Miss Rose, it seems you're the designated victor of the match. There are a few problems that I have with your fighting style, but we can get to those later."

Ruby nodded and took her seat beside me. Ren went up almost immediately, his name picked to fight against Yang.

Unlike the others I'd seen so far, Ren was nearly perfect with the use of his weapons. He wasn't as strong as some, nor was he as fast as some, so he did what warriors were supposed to do when they couldn't defeat someone with sheer physical prowess: he worked on his style.

He didn't even take out his weapons in the first ten minutes, something that irked Yang greatly. She was a decent fighter herself, but she overextended on almost every straight punch, and her other techniques didn't have a single ounce of solid footwork in them. She, like Ruby, was used to showing off and still beating her opponents, and apparently she didn't see anything wrong with that. Ren, on the other hand, fought wisely. He used his Aura sparingly, and didn't go for a direct attack because he knew that Yang could pulverize him in every head-to-head they went for. Instead, he redirected the multitude of punches by sliding them off an arm or palm, and dodged the fake bullets that came his way. there wasn't a single move that didn't go exactly where he intended it to go. If I was in charge of the Throne of Heroes, he'd get a pass on the physical check right then and there, for the sheer mastery of his body and his weapons. He only pulled out StormFlower in the last five minutes, using their sharp-as-razors blades to corral Yang into a corner of the match. She threw one last punch at him, infused with a burning red Aura, and collapsed when he lashed out and smacked her across the neck with an Aura pulse that was most definitely going to hurt in the morning.

"Lie Ren is our winner," Glynda announced. Ren nodded and walked back to us, as serene as ever. I'm not ashamed to admit that I immediately put him third on my "most reliable" list, right under Blake. He had only used a quarter of his Aura, while Yang had depleted more than half of hers simply by empowering her punches.

Blake was the last to go forward, pairing up against some random student that I didn't catch the name of. The moment the match began, Blake darted forward, and I could see the intent to end the match as soon as possible in her eyes.

Her three movements, while they still held a kind of flair to them, weren't nearly as showy and descriptive as Ruby's. She blocked the swing of the boy's sword with her first step, moved behind him in a blur of shadows in the second, and knocked him unconscious with the third. That was it. The battle ended in less than seven seconds, all due to her frightening agility and strategy. Her entire fighting style, from the bits and pieces of it I'd seen in the forest and on that stage, was designed around killing as quickly as she could to prevent any countermeasures being taken. It was also adapted to fit against normal humans, which was the part that really set me on edge. Ren's martial arts were designed not to kill; even I could see that, with my meager knowledge of how they actually worked. Ruby's fighting abilities, on the other hand, were made to dismember Grimm, and she probably had a hard time adjusting them to fit an intelligent opponent into the mix. Blake's... well, it was just for killing.

Beside me, Ruby looked at Blake in awe, and Ren was quietly analyzing her steps. "Blake Belladonna is our winner," Glynda announced. Blake didn't bother to check on her opponent; she just swayed back to her seat and kept her eyes darting around. After a second, she pulled out a familiar orange-covered book and began reading once again, the faint tinge of red overtaking her features almost instantly.

After that, I began to lose interest in the battles. Obviously, some of the fighters there weren't up to par with what I would have considered entrance material. Some of them had the natural strength or speed to coast their way through whatever school they'd come from and straight into Beacon. Those were the laid-back people, and the arrogant ones who thought they could beat out the competition without bothering to train. Like Ruby, they went for overdramatics rather than skill. It was fairly safe to say that whenever they got paired up with the more serious, dedicated fighters, they lost miserably and sorely.

I glanced at my team. None of them save Ruby looked any the worse for wear, and yet they all seemed a little... tired. I didn't know why, but my team needed some cheering up, and I wasn't exactly the best person to do so.

Goodwitch stepped forward a good twenty minutes after Blake's fight, halting the current curbstomp between one Pyrrha Nikos and a mousy kid who was holding a greatsword more than twice his height as if it were a rose. "Alright, Miss Nikos. I think we've seen enough from you and Mister Mavis." The mousy kid dejectedly went to his seat, looking unsettled, while Pyrrha took no more than six graceful strides off the stage and into hers. "That's it for today, children," Goodwitch continued. "Many of you have showed extreme promise. I expect great things from all of you, but perhaps this year we'll have a crop of students that surpass '03."

With that cryptic statement, she stepped off the stage, beckoning us to the door as she did so. What did '03 mean? Was it another class of students, perhaps? A secret experiment designed to produce super-soldiers of some sort?

In the end, it was just another mystery for me to research as I stepped out off the training hall and into the cool autumn breeze of Beacon Heights. Sunlight traced spots against our eyes, forcing my team and I to run for cover under a bough of branches.

"So how ready is everyone else for today to be over?" Ruby asked tiredly as she slumped against a root. We all raised our hands in tandem. The first days of school were always especially exhausting for one reason or another, and judging by the workload we'd be pulling this semester, I seriously expected a good two-thirds of my time to be dedicated to school and training alone, let alone socializing time and a fraction of the day to continue my experiments.

School was truly an exhausting effort.

* * *

Ruby and Ren opted to retire to our room soon after Combat Practice ended. Blake had gone off somewhere, so I couldn't be quite sure of my safety, but I'd opted to scale the plateau that Beacon stood on and trekked out to the Emerald Forest. To somebody with Reinforcement, the task wasn't nearly as long and gruelling as it would be to a normal human, but the mass of exertion displayed on my muscles by the day's events had tired me enough to where I'd almost fallen more than a couple of times. I set the small bag carrying a few of my journals and a pen aside and held out my hands, invoking my Aria in my head.

I am the bone of my sword.

My senses keened twofold just by that declaration, and I immediately knew that the self-hypnosis ingraining the ability to use Thaumaturgy within me had worked. I pressed further, trying to reach out to my inner world and drag it into the external.

Steel is my body and fire is my blood.

I repeated the terms of my Aria several times, until all that was needed to bring me into my Unlimited Blade Works- or rather, my Reality Marble to my surroundings- was the final key.

My whole life was Unlimited Blade Works.

A ring of glittering flame expanded outwards from my feet, taking most of the grass and the trees with it. In the place of the heavy trunks, however, were swords of every make, size and shape. A rocky expanse lay before my eyes, so alien and yet so utterly familiar that it almost brought a tear to my eye.

I inspected my Reality Marble for a brief minute, something I'd gotten into the habit of doing whenever I had an extended period of solitude to get away with. As a representation of me, of my very soul, it was something that would constantly change, and tonight was no exception. There were tiny patches of green sprouting up between the barren wasteland that held my swords. a Few patches of pale, scraggly shrubbery had grown to rest in between the shining expanse of swords. It was an interesting developments, one that I wasn't quite sure of the implications. Did this mean that my soul was healing from the scars that the Fire had carved into it? Was it simply another change brought out of my merging with Jaune's body? And perhaps most importantly, would it affect my ability to use my Tracing? I wasn't particularly good, yes, but when it came to fighting my Tracing was an essential part of my style, and if I was going to save people I would probably be best in the Hunting business.

Maybe if I-

painpainpainpainpain

"Shit!" I managed to gasp out, bending over and allowing my Reality Marble to dissipate. Very familiar blades were jutting from my lungs, one pure white and one misshapen and golden. Following them was one sword, then two and three and four more.

I forced myself to focus as the white noise from the combination of losing blood and swords sticking out of my body set in. Avalon was wavering in my mind; damn it, I didn't have the concentration needed to pull off a Tracing of a Conceptual Weapon. Damn it, what was I supposed to do here?

"Jaun- oh gods, Jaune!" My thoughts snapped into razor-sharp focus, along with my eyesight and my ears. I didn't waste a second of the sudden clarity, instead Tracing Avalon and letting its increased regeneration factor deal with my body from the outside in. As my vision refocused on the world at large, I finally noticed Blake standing over me, sheer horror in her eyes. She gasped as the lengths of steel dropped out of my body one by one, forcibly broken off at the hilt, and dissolved into clouds of prana. Excalibur and Bab Ilu were the last two to fall, but eventually even they succumbed to Avalon's incredible healing properties.

My skin smoothed over in minutes, but while that was happening, Blake whirled at me, a storm blazing in her eyes. "Alright, what the hell's going on!?" she snapped. "First I see you pulling Weiss' sword out of nowhere, then you go and pull whatever you did with Gae Bolg in Combat Practice, and now you had swords jutting out of every surface on your body? GIve me some damn explanations, Jaune! Now!"

Well... shit.

* * *

**And that's a wrap, folks! First off, a few notices to this chapter: one, the '03 thing. That was a bit of filler/easter egg. If anyone knows, feel free to add that to your review! Secondly, I know I'm going to get people complaining about how Shirou's being too forthcoming with Ozpin, so I'll say it now. Ozpin is strong, way stronger than this Shirou, and he knows who Shirou is. The kid's not going to keep that big of a secret from someone who could help him get back to his own life of chasing after Saber.**

**Now that that's over with, let's get to the reviews!**

**LL: heh.**

**kenegi: fixed that typo. Thanks for pointing it out!**

**EternalKing: One, coffee is actually a color. Two, the assassins, killers and Huntsmen thing would at least be viable in a semi-apocalyptic environment such as Remnant. Humans are implied to be scarce in canon, even more so in comparison to the Grimm. Those in power would certainly have a force of Huntsmen/assassins to do their bidding in exchange for money or the safe return of a kidnapped family member. Humans naturally tend to go against each other, after all. Three, Grimm are not phantasmal beasts. Phantasmal beasts all have souls, since most of them can either use or generate prana. Grimm, having no souls, can't even be considered "beasts"; more like "sentient hunger". Four, I have discussed the whole powering Torchwick up thing extensively, so please refer to that. Other than those, thank you for reviewing and noticing the discrepancies I accidentally put in there. I tweaked the stats around a little to make them a bit more realistic.**

**cardo076: This was a typo that I accidentally left in. Right now, Ozpin is the only one who refers to Shirou by his given name.**

**Karlos1234ify: Sorry, but none of them. Someone else from the Type-Moon series, and an antagonist in a visual novel...**

**That's it for now. It's looking more and more like I can take my laptop with me to England, but don't get your hopes too high. On another hand, let's talk about F/SN: UBW episode 20. Like, damn. This single episode gives the entire Shirou/Archer conflict more meaning than most good fanfics do. Not only does it accomplish that, but Unlimited Budget Works really shone through again. The animation was spot-on, the backgrounds incredible, and by the gods... that soundtrack. **

**Okay, that's _really_ it for now. Have fun, stay safe, and keep on learning. See you next time, folks!**


	13. Aerial Assault

**Hello everyone, and welcome back to-**

**...Oh.**

**...Oh, okay.**

**Alright, it looks like phuxeds was right; a lot of people are getting shitty over ORT. Honestly, I thought I was being a good writer there. What I was trying to do was make Shirou seem like an unreliable narrator. I know a lot of people reading this have either read the wiki a lot or played enough Type-Moon to know that ORT can't really die. Shirou wouldn't know that, of course, since humans only have this concept of death at the end of their lives. So, logically, when it was "destroyed" by the Association and other associates, it must surely have died in his eyes. But no, ORT is still out there, and still going strong. **

**On to other things. Finally back from vacation. London was pretty cool, but there's so many smokers _everywhere_\- I could barely move without breathing in chemical pollution. It wasn't all that awful around greater London either, only in the Earl's Court area. Westminster was the bomb, I got some pretty good Latin inscriptions to translate on the plane back. Over, it was a pretty awesome trip! **

**That's all I really need to say though, so let's get back into the story! **

* * *

**Chapter 13: Aerial Assault**

"Well?" Blake's voice was calm and cold, like a brisk snowfall just after autumn. I winced at the hints of venom in there.

Well, this was it. It wasn't really how I wanted to reveal my Thaumaturgy to the world, not that I wanted to at all, but all secrets were revealed sometime. There were very few Magi that got away with nobody ever finding out about Magecraft, even if those who did usually died afterwards. Unless...

Maybe I could spin the truth? There wasn't a Magus Association around to regulate the rule, so I could break it if I liked, but it was habit to keep it a secret at that point and it would take too long to explain. Maybe, just maybe, as long as I thought fast enough and pushed it like it was the truth...

"You might want to take a seat," I said, Tracing a pair of chairs into existence beside me. She raised an eyebrow, but followed my lead and plopped into her chair. I took a deep breath and let it out explosively. "By now, I think you've figured out that I haven't been entirely truthful about my ability."

"Whatever made you guess that?" I could practically taste her sarcasm, so I cut to the chase.

"I wasn't lying when I said that my Aura did some bad stuff to me. There are, however, two more things it allows me to do beside heal myself." I pulled Kanshou and Bakuya's blueprints to mind, and in a flicker of prana they appeared. "My first ability is Structural Analysis, or so I like to call it. It allows me to determine the exact composition and history of an object just by looking at it."

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Gambol Shroud is comprised of exactly 223 parts, 93 of them steel, 26 of them plastic, 19 made of cloth and the rest made of various other elements, including two electrical components made of pure gold that could cost a small fortune to replace. Naturally, they're also the most insulated, held in a lead box weighing a third of a pound exactly. Do I need to continue?"

Her eyebrow dropped, and she inclined her head to imply she understood. "The second, as I'm sure you can see, is Tracing. With Tracing, I can completely copy any object as long as I intimately understand it and have the pr- Aura necessary to complete it." Kanshou and Bakuya dissipated into motes of light.

"So you could make a car or an airship if we ever needed it?" Blake asked.

I winced at the thought. "It's possible, but it would take several minutes to complete the process and even then I wouldn't trust it." I shivered as I remembered the last time I tried Tracing a motor engine. "Things like propellers and rockets are really complex, and the more complex an object is the less time it takes to deteriorate. Besides, things that run with fuel tend to... explode when I Trace them. Violently."

Blake nodded, as though she understood. "My Aura ruins machinery too," she explained, and I sagged in relief that I wasn't the only person, Magus or not, that fucked up most machines on a daily basis. Structural analysis was harmless, but Tracing...

"But, I have another question," Blake pointed out, and I snapped back into reality. "Why do you want to keep it a secret? Something like this would only be beneficial, right?"

Shit, I didn't think of that. What would... Ah! "Beneficial. Right. Blake, I don't mean to sound rude, but have you ever thought about what the military would do if they got wind of my secrets? Semblances generally only have one pronounced effect, and the fact that I have three is mind-boggling enough. Besides, the ability to Trace any weapon would make me nothing more than a weapons factory for the army; I probably wouldn't even get paid for it."

"That's the Atlas Army for you," she sighed. "But the blades?"

"Like I said, my Aura doesn't particularly like it when I try things outside my specialty. In that case, I was trying to pull off something like Weiss' Glyphs, only with swords. You can see how well that turned out. It's only thanks to the fact that I have this," and here I Traced Avalon, "that I survive those things." An eerie quiet fell over our clearing, but whether it was from Blake's silence or Avalon's presence I couldn't tell.

"And that is?"

"Not quite sure," I admitted, and for once during this charade I was being completely truthful. I knew that Avalon was a Conceptual Weapon, but that was the gist of it. Hell, I wasn't exactly sure on what a Conceptual Weapon even was, other than it was a Mystic Code that had some weird shit happen to it. "All I know is that it fixes me up after a fight, and it does its job well. I found it a few months back, and I've held onto a copy ever since."

Blake had apparently run out of questions, because she fell silent and her eyes locked on to Avalon. The both of us basked in its soothing presence. After a few minutes, I dismissed the Traced sheath and stood. "Come on. I'm thinking Eastern cuisine tonight, and I don't think Ren and Ruby are going to be happy with us not coming back until sundown."

A grunt of assent reached my ears, and together we headed back to Beacon, the Traced chairs forgotten.

* * *

"Mmm, I knew you could cook, but this is amazing!" Ruby let out a loud sigh of content as the mouthful of amazingly flavorful curry and rice slipped down her throat. She grinned lopsidedly at him, picking up another spoonful of the mixture at the same time. His eyes lit up in a genuine happiness that completely erased any trace of the sadness that plagued his face before the meal began.

"Thanks, Ruby," he said honestly. She felt her face warm a bit at the small, tugging smile he gave her (well, her and Blake, who was also inhaling the food with a speed that rivalled her own). Jaune calmly pulled a pair of chopsticks from an unseen pocket and plucked a slice of pork from the curry-covered rice. He bit into it with purpose, chewing and humming for a full four seconds before swallowing.

"Not up to par," he decided. "Damn, and I thought that my Eastern food was pretty good, too."

Ruby's mouth dropped open, and her food almost spilled from her mouth. She pushed her head forward and recaptured the offending morsels. This was only good? If this was good, what was his best?!

She said as much. Jaune chuckled. "Well, I thought that I was great at curry, but my favorite dish to cook would have to be a kaiseki, a dinner meal that ranges from six to fifteen different types of food. I particularly like cooking fish, to be honest."

"Whatever you like, I want to try it sometime," Ren said, turning the words over in his mouth like the food he'd just eaten. "This is truly a masterpiece of cooking, Jaune."

"Many thanks, Ren," Jaune replied. They both bowed, short and quick but no less grateful because of it. Ruby found herself mystified by the slowly unraveling mystery that was her leader. He was more polite than many adults, maybe even more so than Ozpin himself, but the skill with which he fought was unquestionably great. She would have her work cut out for her if she ever wanted to get better than him.

Dinner was over quickly, despite her desire to savor each bite of Jaune's food, and they all tucked into bed afterwards. Ruby found herself staring at the two portraits hanging in front of the door. If what Jaune said was true, they were both fighters more powerful than he was. Even though he said that, she couldn't help but think it was a little bit of an exaggeration. Jaune was easily in the top five close-combat fighters she'd ever met, only surpassed by Qrow, her father, and for that very brief month, her mother. She sighed. Will I ever be as good as those people?" she whispered, almost silently. By that time, Blake and Ren had both gone to sleep, and Jaune's breathing was rhythmic in its slowness.

Ruby tucked her chin under her covers and puffed out a breath. She'd just have to work harder tomorrow.

* * *

BANG!

I was upright and ready to fight before I could even open my eyes. Kanshou and Bakuya were resting steadily in my hands, the familiar hum of energy that strung them together making my skin tingle. There was nothing in the room, nothing outside the window except darkness and red eyes. All of the walls appeared to...

Red eyes?

I swiveled my head back to the window, tightening my grip on Kanshou and Bakuya as I did so. Sure enough, a pair of emotionless crimson eyes stared back as me. There was a beak situated under them, and they seemed to be lined with feathers and the bony white of a mask.

Grimm Attack. That was what my instincts told me. It took less than a second for me to formulate a plan.

"Everyone up!" I roared, dematerializing the Married Blades and Tracing EMIYA's bow. Blake was the first to rise, blinking calmly at me, followed by Ren. Ruby was trailing behind. She still looked half asleep, despite the continuous shaking that was knocking dust loose from out ceiling.

"Out! Get to the ballroom!" My teammates wasted no time in moving. Ruby moved slower, slower than I'd ever seen her. I wondered, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, if she understood the gravity of the situation. She didn't even look awake. All the while, the Nevermore outside our window was watching, waiting for... something. "Hurry up!" I hissed at her. Another earth-shaking tremor ran through the building.

That finally got my lazy teammate moving. Her silver eyes flew open like a flag snapping in the wind and she darted forward, careful to keep behind Blake even with her speed. I was the last one out. I leveled a glare with the Nevermore before I left. It wasn't very big, only three or four feet in length, but the way it watched me suggested it knew something about what was going on.

The four of us darted between students and faculty alike. Most of the first and second years didn't know what to do in the sort of situation we'd been forced in, but I saw several groups of fifth years clustering together and manning positions at the windows. I passed by an unnerved Weiss, wearing nothing but an unusually short dressing gown and an irritated expression on her face. She didn't even have Myrtenaster with her, and a quick scan with my Structural Analysis found it lodged in a wall next to her. The blade was... excited, for lack of a better term. Actually, bloodlust would work quite well for describing her mood.

It took us only three minutes to reach the ballroom from the student dorms. It was a testament to what Aura could do, since the trip was just over a half-mile in length. Ren and I shoved open the doors. Inside, two teachers were commanding a group of fourth-year students: Peter Port and another man I didn't quite recognize. His green hair stuck up in a shock, and it might have been because of the brevity of his time to prepare, but his tie was askew and his shirt was only half-tucked. Peter glanced us over as we arrived.

"Good, we have a first-year team that might be able to take one or two of the Echates," he rumbled to the man next to him. The man's head whipped around.

He looked us over for one second, then five, then ten. Just when I was about to disregard him and start shooting at whatever was attacking us, he spoke up. "Alright, I'll clear you for indirect combat," he said at a lightning-fast pace. "Don't get any closer than ten feet, and if you have to retreat, do it, no matter what."

"What are the enemies?" I asked. The man's eyes narrowed.

"Good, we have someone who can handle the pressure. Bartholomew Oobleck, Doctor of the third years' and above History, at your service. Our opponents seem to be a horde of Echates, and they're being assisted by a murder of Nevermore, most of them in the Giant classification."

Echates had been some of the hardest Grimm for me to document during my stay at the Arc house, mainly because they preferred to operate under the cover of darkness. They resembled demented crosses between cats and bats, with two swiveling hind legs and the upper half replaced by wings and a stubby snout. Their masks didn't protect them at all, being located on the backs of their necks and temples. The disadvantage was, obviously, the lack of protection, but it granted them much better eyesight than their avian peers and gave them the unique- to Grimm at least- ability of echolocation. They were small, so I'd have to rely on my team to take care of most of them. As good as my Archery was, I still couldn't hit as many targets as a horde in a short enough span to make a difference.

Giant Nevermore, on the other hand, were much easier to hit.

The Grimm had five known categories: the Larva, the Average, the Giant, the Behemoth, and the Titan classes. Each one delineated the size, of course, as well as their general age and knowledge. The Grimm never stopped growing, which was one of the many reasons why people were so wary to venture outside of the Kingdoms. Even with the Grimm hordes, there were an estimated four million Titan-class Grimm roaming the planet, destroying whatever they saw fit with true malice, not just some unwavering fighting instinct.

I processed all of this information as my team took up positions next to two adjacent windows. The moon, showing its whole side, was bright enough for me to track the gleaming white of the Echates' masks. Further beyond them, circling high in the sky and diving at the walls every so often, were the murder of Nevermore. I nocked three arrows at once, holding each just over the small webbing of my fingers, and released at once.

Seven Echates, two pierced by each shaft and one that had been caught over the head by another, fell to the ground in a shadowy heap. I pulled another Traced arrow out and fired, pausing just long enough to visualize the projectile flying forth to strike its target. Beside me, my team was faring about as well. Ren's submachine guns were tearing into the cloud, only doing faint damage but knocking the Echates askew, while Blake took her time and picked them off one by one with her handgun. Crescent Rose released bullet after bullet, firing almost as quickly as I was, but in the end it still wasn't enough. Even with two dozen upper-level students and us, we were barely able to make a dent in the cloud of darkness rolling towards us.

"Time to try something else," I heard one of the fourth years next to me grumble. He loaded a new cartridge into his shotgun and began firing again. Ice, fire, lightning, every element exploded against the wall of Grimm.

Dust rounds. That would be very useful. Was it possible to Trace Dust?

"Hey, I said no Dust rounds!" Oobleck shouted his anger over the roar of firing weapons and screaming students. The fourth year looked back at him, scowling.

"Sir, if we don't use them, we're surely going to lose the ballroom, and then the East Wing!" I realized just why there had been so many people gathered at one ballroom. I Analyzed the room, and the rooms in every direction around it.

There, under the floor, were support beams, made of a combination of steel and carbon alloys. That wasn't just a set of load-bearing beams, they were what was keeping the entire East Wing from collapsing. If the Grimm got to them, it would take a while, but eventually they'd be able to peck through.

"It doesn't matter!" Oobleck snapped back. "We're low on Dust as it is right now, and we shouldn't waste it until we have absolutely no choice! If you disobey orders again I'll have you expelled, so make sure to pass the word along!"

The guy grumbled, but he pulled his cartridge out and level an icy glare towards the Echates. They were flapping about like mad, their hind limbs flailing uselessly in the air. Then, as one, they began to hum. A flicker of light, made by sound waves compressing and colliding to create sheer force, shot out of each one's mouth, colliding with the building and sparking against its marble defenses. Each shot wasn't enough to do much to such a strong building on its own, but when combined with thousands of others on a single spot, it could blast a hole right through. Thankfully, the Echates we were shooting at had neither the skill nor the intelligence to do such a thing. That wasn't to say that they didn't hinder us; their shots eventually began giving the students mild burns. Most of us kept fighting, but after the fourth volley of the shots several were forced out of battle, unable to keep their hands from shaking in pain. It seemed that even if the body detected pain, it didn't activate its Aura to heal itself if it was caused by something so trivial as sounds. I was also caught by burns, but Avalon's golden glow whisked them away in a minute's time.

I lost track of how many Echates I'd shot down after a while, because my mind was so utterly focused on cutting into the swarm. There must have been tens of thousands of Echates alone, and another twenty or thirty Giant Nevermore. Occasionally, I'd see a flash of violet light or green blasts of raw energy, and I assumed that Glynda and Ozpin had gotten in on the action as well. It didn't matter. No matter how many we cut down, there were more to replace the fallen. I estimated that after ten minutes of shooting at them with half the school's occupation taking part in the fight, we'd only cut eight or nine percent out of the sky, and there might have been more on the ground, waiting to take to the skies and slaughter us.

Then, the worst thing possible happened.

A line of Echates managed to sweep into the room, screeching and clawing at the ground and students. Several of us fell back, panicking, but mostly we fought back and slaughtered the creatures without mercy. By the time we turned back to the horde above us, however, two more clusters had broken off from the main group and flew in through the shattered windows. I discarded the arrow in my right hand and Traced Kanshou and Bakuya. It was tough, holding onto one and throwing the other, but I managed to fling the Yin Sword across the room, where it cut an arc of death through twenty Echates before returning to my hand. I repeated the process several times, only dropping Bakuya when a new wave of Grimm tried to swarm through the window. It was a grueling task, one that took two full teams of Reinforcements, but we could finally focus on the Grimm outside of the window with more people to clear out the inside.

"This isn't working!" Ruby cried. Her hands were shaking, and purple bruises had formed on her hand and shoulder from where she'd absorbed the kicks of Crescent Rose's recoil.

"Team SRBR," I shouted over the cacophony, "stand down!"

"Are you insane?!" Blake yelled back.

I shook my head and turned to her. "Seriously, stand down. I'll finish this up."

I think I managed to convey the gravity of what I was about to do, because the rest of my team nodded as one and leapt away. Behind me, I could feel Oobleck's eyes on my back, watching me inquisitively.

"Trace... On." Twenty one Circuits burst to life, channeling prana to their maximum. I Reinforced the rest of my body to its full extent and replaced the prana strengthening my drawing arm. A sword took shape in my hand, its hilt made of gleaming gold and a beautiful blue resin. The blade was sharp, long and straight, devoid of any impurities or engravings. Two Faery marks adorned the crossguard, simple and elegant. This was Caladbolg: The Light's Forbear.

I am the bone of my sword.

The words weren't spoken as much as they were felt. Of course, I still spoke them as a focus for my prana, but I could feel the change in my Self taking effect even before I incanted the first line of my Aria. My Reinforcement doubled, upgrading my Strength to a C- stat that was about halfway above standard D. Caladbolg changed as well. The blade curled like a line of thread being spooled. The crossguard was next, tucking into the blade, followed by the hilt. In the span of seven and a half seconds, I'd Altered Caladbolg to become an arrow, a perfectly aerodynamic monster of a weapon, Caladbolg II: Fake Spiral Sword. I poured more and more prana into it, hoping that it would sate itself soon. Turquoise light flickered to life around me, the result of my azure prana and the emerald mana of the atmosphere charging each other with more power than they could hold. The light shone brightest around Caladbolg. Its blade rippled with multicolored light, hence its name. My Circuits began to burn like a sore muscle, pulsing with aches that I could inexplicably feel with my very soul.

After I poured what must have been a full twentieth of my maximum prana capacity, enough to trace thirty seven normal swords, its blade finally cracked. The clefts spread, until the entire sword seemed to be hanging onto its form by sheer willpower. Inside the cracks I could see a roiling mass of blue-green energy, my prana buzzing with life just under the surface. I took a deep breath and pulled back. the EMIYA bow's draw strength increased with the power of the projectile it was firing. I couldn't even hope to launch something like Excalibur or Ea with it, not that I could successfully Alter one of those incredibly powerful swords in the first place, but with Caladbolg II it only required B- Strength to successfully draw it to full tautness. I released my breath and sucked in another one, this one tainted by the metallic sourness of steel.

I only let out a single word, but that one word was enough to utterly decimate my foes. "Caladbolg," I whispered, and released the string.

* * *

Blake only barely heard the twang of the bowstring over the shouts, screams, cries and thundering rumbles that the Grimm were causing. The vile creatures seemed to have no end, six taking the place of every one that was shot down.

She wasn't quite sure why Jaune had ordered the team to stand down, but she saw the look in his eyes. It was the look that he sometimes had when he was about to unleash some devastating new attack. It was a look of complete and utter confidence mixed with seriousness and the ever-so-slim hint of fear. She may have been a terrorist at one point, but Blake Belladonna was first and foremost on reading other people's feelings. Jaune was one of those people she trusted absolutely, and not because he'd proved himself to be strong, or because he couldn't lie worth a damn, even though both of those things were true.

No, she trusted him because he didn't hesitate to reveal anything about himself that she asked about. Sure, he left out a few key details, like the identities of the people in his portraits, but that was to be expected of someone and their close friends. Blake was a firm believer in the various philosophies, especially that of Equivalent Exchange. She believed that if one was to give up something, then they could take something of equal value. So, if Jaune was going to give her his trust, she would give hers to him in exchange.

It was three seconds after the sword-arrow had left the bowstring that she understood why he'd wanted them to back away from the fight. The sword he'd Traced was of fine make, even better than most of the weapons people would see on Huntsmen and Huntresses. Despite that, he had kept his eyes narrowed, and gradually cracks began to form on the corkscrewed sword, spreading from the tip to the pommel. A flicker of confusion crossed her face.

Why would he ruin such a perfectly good weapon?

The vapor trail that the sword left behind as it ripped through the horde of Echates was impressive. It seemed like the very air around the sword was ripping and tearing, just like it was ripping and tearing the murky flesh of the Grimm in front of it. It slowed down eventually, after making its path halfway through the army of Echates, and even then it shredded through another eighth of the horde's thickness.

Then it exploded.

When Blake thought of an exploding sword, she either expected a sword bursting into dozens of metal pieces that ripped and tore everything around them, or swords with specially synthesized Explosion Dust rimming their edges. She did not, however, expect the hundred-foot fireball that erupted from the point of the sword.

The fire was blue at first, fuelled by that strange energy that Jaune had called his Aura, but as more air fed the blaze and it slowly, agonizingly fell to the earth, it became more of a red-violet color. She watched, mesmerized, as thousands of Echates met their fiery demise at the hands of that miniature sun. Her gaze flickered briefly in the harsh light, so she had turn to away, and her eyes rested on Jaune.

He was watching the horde with calm, assessing eyes. A single bead of sweat trailed down from his temple and off his cheek. He fitted another weapon to the string of his bow. She recognized the blood-red arrow; it was Gae Bolg, albeit a shortened and more streamlined version. The length of the red haft glowed a deep crimson. Past the din of students, she saw the name of the lance-turned-arrow leave Jaune's unheard lips, along with a few more words she couldn't recognize.

Gae Bolg became a scarlet bullet of light that multiplied in midair. First one, then fifty, then a hundred, then a number she couldn't have counted with just her eyes and her estimation spawned from the lance, each one glowing with hungry, bloody light. Each and every projectile found its mark, cutting down the entire rest of the Grimm horde in one fell swoop.

She didn't pay attention to that, though. Her eyes kept themselves firmly on Jaune's face. She saw him pale, she saw his veins bulge under the skin of his neck, she saw the blood that almost lovingly caressed his lips when he took a shaky breath. And then she was moving towards him. The second after that she was holding him up. He looked at her, his almost-gold eyes meeting her warm amber ones in a show of thanks.

* * *

I let Blake carry me towards the window. Normally I would try and walk on my own, but even though I had the strength to do it, I wasn't in any shape to without aggravating the internal bleeding I'd suffered from expelling so much prana. Avalon pumped golden energy into me, but it would still take more than a few hours to completely heal my devastated organs and blackened bones. It was a miracle I was still conscious, probably thanks to Avalon as well.

Despite that, I couldn't help but sigh in relief. I almost immediately regretted it, as agony lanced through my lungs and a fine mist of blood obscured my sight for a moment. When I could see clearly again, Blake was looking down on me worriedly, and I groggily realized I was on the floor.

I let my head turn to the side, and tried to mutter an "It's okay" to Blake, but what came out of my mouth was something like "s'kay". There were black loafers stepping purposefully towards me. It was Ozpin, his face looking vaguely pleased.

"Well done, Jaune," he congratulated me. "I must ask, though, if you're alright?"

I leveled the best glare I could at him, causing him to laugh. "No, I suppose you're not. Don't worry, Miss Belladonna, I'll get the healers over here right away. Try to keep him awake, would you?"

"You hear that, Jaune?" she asked, trying (and failing) to soothe my burning nerve endings. "They'll get someone over to heal you in just a minute. Can you stay awake until then?"

I managed a nod. Avalon would just reject whatever Aura they would push into me anyway, but given a good two-and-a-half-hours or so, I'd be well enough to move without rupturing any more organs. "What... what 'bout the Nev'rmo'rs?" I mumbled.

"Already taken care of," Ozpin said. He waved the old man who'd tried to scan me on my first day, Cander, over to me and made a gesture with his arms. The senile elder scowled at me.

"You know, your life would go a whole lot smoother if you stopped having seizures every few days," he grumbled. Once again, a cloud of Aura fell from his sleeves and tried to enter my pores, and once again, it failed to get past the prana circulating in my body. "And I can't scan you again! The hell are you, some kind of robot?"

I just shrugged, not giving an answer either way. I was honestly surprised that Jaune's body could handle as much prana as I was pushing through it. I'd gone through a similar experience when manifesting Unlimited Blade Works, but I didn't think I'd be able to utilize so much prana with only five months of conditioning his body. Normally, channeling that much prana would take years of work to accomplish successfully. Avalon would have helped by hindering the negative effects of the prana overload, but I still found myself impressed with my development.

"Dammit, heal already!" Cander ranted, pushing more and more. Eventually, a tiny portion slipped between the streams of prana coating my body, dissipating on contact with the ruined area but regenerating a small part of it. He glared at me, like it was somehow my fault that he wasn't healing me like he should have been.

Then again, it was my fault.

"I can't do any more," Cander announced harshly to Ozpin. "The kid just doesn't seem to be accepting my Aura. Why, I have no idea, but if he heals up like he did after that first seizure, then I think he'll be fine for now. Once he can walk, get him to his room and make him sleep." He directed his words to Blake. "Whatever's inside him is blocking my Aura, but it's also healing him. Be careful, though; I don't know if he'll heal the way he should. Internal organs are very risky. I'd suggest letting him walk himself instead of carrying him, and make sure he doesn't jostle around too much in his sleep."

"I will," Blake promised. She glared at Cander's back as he shuffled away to tend to the next victim of the attack, a third year whose arm had been crushed by a falling chunk of marble. There probably wasn't any way to save the guy's arm, but given this world's level of technology, there might be special prosthetics that functioned just as well.

"So what happens now?" Ruby asked. She was looking out the window at the circling Nevermores. Despite what Ozpin had said, nobody had attacked them yet, and for now it seemed like both parties were at a stalemate. Quite frankly, I didn't want the overgrown birds to start dive-bombing Beacon. It was structurally sound, and the teachers had the skills to easily defeat them, but it would most definitely involve a battleground filled with injured and innocent people. I think Ozpin saw that too, which was why he hadn't taken his eyes off the Grimm since he'd pointed me out to Cander. He took a single step forward and unsheathed the razor-sharp sword I knew was hidden inside his cane.

Thousands of feet up, so high that they were barely visible even by the moon's stark light, two of the Giant Nevermores fell to pieces. The others didn't even have a clue as to what happened. Ozpin took nine more steps forward, swinging his sword with invisible speed with each step. Every stroke sent another two or three Nevermores tumbling to the ground, until they were all dropped in a pile at the entrance to the airship docks.

I gaped. That was... incredible. There was really no other way to describe it, other than "on the level of your above-average Saber Class Servant". His strength must have B rank on its own. If this guy ever managed to get a power up from Reinforcement or something similar, he'd be able to take on Saber and match her move for move, hands down. He was truly one of the strongest, and as it was he could probably take on Rider and Lancer at once, given his monstrous speed. To be able to strike at something over a half-mile away in an instant, without even my Reinforced Eyes or Eye of the Mind catching it was nothing short of stunning.

I wasn't the only one who was impressed with Ozpin's show of skill. Ruby was circling him, a scary glint in her eyes as she chattered and chattered away at how "cool" he was. Ozpin merely gave her a small smile and asked her to tend to her team. She did so with an embarrassed squeak.

"I think I can walk now, Blake," I muttered. She looked me over. Outwardly, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with my body, but my stomach and intestines were still a mess. My stomach lining was about the only thing left of my original digestive tract, and I was thankful for it, because it would have taken twice as long for Avalon to heal if my stomach acid had leaked out and scalded a hole through my abdomen.

"Are you sure?" When I nodded, she lifted me to my feet and put an arm under mine to hold me up. "Take it slowly, okay?"

"Got it," I replied, and the four of us set off at a sedate pace towards our room. Along the way, we met several bruised and scratched students roaming the halls, looking for any of the escaped Grimm. Our wing of the building wasn't the only one to be attacked; every side was swarmed with a different type of Grimm. The South Wing was being assaulted by Beowolves as we walked, although a good portion of the staff was busy crushing their pack down. The North and West Wings had already been invaded by Boarbatusks and Ursae. The good news about that was that the fifth-year dorms were located in the Northwest Dormitory, and they were the most plentiful class we had, so that was enough to take out the vast majority of their swarm.

The question was, why? why were the Grimm attacking en masse on that night, of all times? It didn't make any sense whatsoever. First of all, Beowolves and the other land-bound Grimm had no way of getting up here aside from being lifted by avian Grimm, and most of the avian types weren't smart enough to organize something like that even in their Titan years. Secondly, it was too absurd to think of an attack of such a scale as coincidence. Thirdly, the Grimm were numbering in the tens of thousands on small fry alone, never mind the larger types adding their powerful attacks to their onslaught. We'd probably just wiped out the entire Grimm population within a mile of the Kingdom of Vale. How did they all even get here?

"It's strange, isn't it?" Ren said after a while. We had to pick our way around a marble pillar that had fallen in the way of the hall, causing another stab of pain in my intestines. "There's no way all these Grimm can organize to attack us at the same time."

I nodded absently. "So there's someone either controlling the Grimm, or a coincidence," he continued. "Now, I don't know about you guys, but I don't believe in coincidences. So that must mean there's a higher power controlling these Grimm to organize and attack us like this."

"I wonder if the other schools are facing invasions like this?" Ruby said, tilting her chin. I could only shrug as she turned her inquisitive eyes to me. I didn't know much about the other schools other than their names and general locations. Despite my crusade for knowledge at the library, I couldn't find much on Mistral and the other lands, mainly because it was just too hard to get information across the oceans other than by communications centers, and it cost so much to make calls through those that transcontinental calls could only be made for short periods of time, few and far between. There was just too little time to work on establishing communication when the world was constantly being hit by new species of Grimm.

Eventually, we got back to our room. Despite the action making my blood boil, I was ready to go to sleep, and my teammates weren't far behind. The moment I hit the bed, my eyes closed and I drifted off. My last sensation was another body hitting my bed, probably Blake from its height and smooth breathing. I guess she was just too tired to climb up to her own bed. I just scooted over and allowed her to take the center of the bed before I passed out.

* * *

**And that's a wrap! Honestly, this chapter was one of my favorite ones to write, and not just because Shirou finally used Gae Bolg's other ability. But, that's neither here nor there. Let's get on to reviews!**

**NOW OR N3V3R: Thanks for reading! For your first question, I can't say too much, but he definitely will. It has something to do with just how fucked up Shirou's soul is by now. For your second question, he'll be about on par with an Archer. When I was thinking of a way for Shirou to match up against this fic's final boss, I didn't want to overpower him so much that he'd destroy Beacon with one swing, but I didn't want him to be as weak as his Fate self either. So, I looked up the stats for the Servant classes, and found that an Archer or Beserker fit him quite well. He's about on par with Archer from the Fifth War and Berserker from the Fourth War if you take off the Mad Enhancement.**

**Holly darkness: He wouldn't. The way I see it, the mind, body and soul are three separate things that exist in one space. The Magic Circuits bridge the gap between the soul and the body, while the brain bridges the gap between the mind and the body. Thaumaturgy is what connects the soul and mind, and since Jaune didn't have any Thaumaturgic links or skills to speak of beside his Magic Circuits, his memories didn't get transferred into Shirou.**

**SidJ: Sorry you didn't like the story. I actually agree with most of your reasoning and it'll be added to the list of things I will revise when this fic is done, but there is one item I have to protest with: Ozpin having friends. At most, Ozpin has close acquaintances, but nothing so close as friends. This is mostly because he can't afford to, especially when he is one of the forefronts of the fight for humanity in a world of monstrously powerful beasts that want nothing more than to kill all human life. Ozpin, and more importantly the people he either knows or has trained, can die at any moment, and as previous experience has taught him having friends is a surefire way to feel grief and be less effective in combat. Thus, Ozpin doesn't make friends. He is one of the best warriors on Remnant for several reasons, one of which being his emotional aloofness.**

**Guest #1: Thanks! Although I don't really think this is the best Fate/RWBY crossover (that would be Fate: Recondite by Ravoleck, even though _he hasn't updated in two months_), I appreciate the praise!**

**Guest #2: Despite what people tend to write in Fate/crossovers, Shirou isn't all that powerful. He's a bit stupid when it comes to reading situations, doesn't have a lot of power (something I changed early on), and can't really match a Servant. The only reason Shirou's any use in a fight at all is because he has Unlimited Blade Works and Tracing. Ozpin, on the other hand, has several unique advantages going for him that have allowed him to become one of the best. **

**snoogenz: heh.**

**Scrumptious Egoi: Well that's part of it, but the other part... heh.**

**Skywrd Swrd: most of your comment is spot on, but the part about Nrvnqsr having a soul... heh.**

**Shirozaki Kizuro: I don't know the circumstances behind it myself, but ORT is very much a Dead Apostle Ancestor. Apparently the previous Fifth Ancestor wanted to experiment on it, ORt killed him/her, and the Association decided it had vampiric properties and BOOM! new Apostle. It's not a real Dead Apostle, so it can't be used in the Aylesbury ritual, but with how many bitchy Apostles there are that thing isn't ever gonna get completed.**

**phuxeds: I'm planning on diverting from the RWBY canon at around the end of volume one, since I started the idea for this story around then. I didn't come back to it until NaNoWriMo last year, but I want to remain faithful to my original idea. I might include a chapter from the start of volume two, but probably not.**

**And that's it for comments! Since I'm home, expect the update schedule to resume its normal pace, so I'll see you guys on Saturday. Happy reading!**


	14. Expulse

**Alright, welcome back to RoCP! This is a pretty short chapter to**** bring things down from last episode, and hopefully introduce a new character. That's all up here, so let's get reading!**

* * *

**Chapter 14: Expulse**

My dreams weren't usually normal. Normally, I didn't dream, or at least I didn't remember my dreams, but the ones I did remember were almost always the same. I was always young again, walking through that horrifying Fire, stepping past both building and body alike. There was screaming, shouting, shrieking. They all punctured the snap and crackle of flames in my ears. IIt hurt. It hurt so much, walking along that scorched ground, bathing my feet in flames. THey traveled up my legs, burning my skin and blistering my muscles.I kept walking.

There was nothing else to do. I ignored the people's cries for help in the hope that maybe, just maybe, I could make it out of that inferno alive. Nobody would come to help. I had to do it myself.

Then I stopped walking. I fell to my knees, unable to continue as my tendons burnt away into nothingness. Even so, I kept crawling forward on my elbows. They were scorched to ash as well. Just as I thought I would die, another figure appeared in the blaze.

The fire appeared to slide over his skin as if he were controlling it. His black coat and equally black suit was repelling the flames as well. His face...

I remember that face. It was a face so happy, so filled with simple joy at the prospect of finding another living human that my broken, addled mind had to wonder if I could ever be as happy as him. Then everything went black.

That was how my dreams usually went. The only exception was when I was fighting in the Grail War with Saber, where I'd dreamed of her past life as Arturia Pendragon. I expected my dreams that night to be no different.

I should really stop expecting things.

The world skidded to a halt around me, shapes and images going from the raging flames of a horrid inferno to a green meadow with silver flowers dotting the bed of emerald. A single tree stood in the center of the meadow. Around that tree were two figures, one small and lithe, the other hulking and monstrously muscled. The smaller form, a woman with black hair, was speaking to the larger man. I couldn't make out what she said, but the man nodded and walked away. I watched him as he disappeared into the ring of trees. There were Grimm dotting those trees, of every conceivable variety. The woman just snapped her fingers.

More fire appeared, but this time it seemed tame, controlled, and very much unlike the torrent of fire that scalded my skin and mind. She grinned a wicked grin. The Grimm melted away from the flames, returning to the shadows that hid their forms. The flames flicked off, and the woman took a seat under the shade of that one, single tree.

My eyes snapped open, then, and I sat up almost out of reflex. That woman was unfamiliar, but if dreams had told me one thing, it was that you really shouldn't trust them. On the off chance that it was some sort of prophetic vision, which was highly doubtful considering the only way for a person to use the power of Prophecy was to tap against the boundaries of Akasha, and oftentimes it had a high fatality rate. So far as I knew I hadn't even come close to reaching the Swirl of the Root, and with my super-specialized Origin and Element, it was unlikely that I'd reach it in my lifetime. Perhaps Tabitha would, if I did pass down all the knowledge I'd accumulated from Unlimited Blade Works to her, but definitely not me.

That didn't stop me from feeling proud enough of my Reality Marble to call it a True Magic, though.

A second thought hit me as the dream faded into the back of my mind. I had been feeling a lot more pride since I'd come into Remnant. Perhaps I had found my true worth in being a Huntsman or after defeating Gilgamesh for the first time.

Whatever the reason, it wasn't as important as tending to my rumbling (and now wholly regenerated) stomach. I glanced myself over for any more signs of damage, then stepped towards the kitchen. Blake must have moved back to her own bed sometime in the night, because I could see a lump under her bedsheets.

A wave of foulness almost as bad as Berserker's stink washed over me. I hesitantly twisted around and sniffed my armpit. Eugh!

"Okay," I muttered, "shower first. Then I can work on breakfast."

* * *

It didn't take very long for me to feel clean, but it took a hell of a lot longer for me to smell clean. Apparently a lot of blood and grime had gotten rubbed into my skin during the fight, and only by rubbing my skin half-raw did I managed to get all of it out. With that matter accomplished, I walked into the kitchen, a fresh tunic and pants on my person. Blake was standing next to the stove, grumbling about whatever was hissing and spitting in the pan in front of her. I craned my head up, trying to get a look at whatever it was.

"Are you trying... to cook coal?" Blake jumped and whirled, her hand half an inch from Gambol Shroud's grip. Her face went through several interesting emotions, from shock to indignance to flushed embarrassment. She glanced down at the pan, flinched, and looked back up at me.

"Okay, don't scare me like that," she hissed. "And also, don't you ever mention this..." she gestured to the lumps of blackened material popping about the pan, "...attempt at making pancakes to the others."

I blinked. The anger and embarrassment I could understand, because I had made the mistake and felt the exact same thing several times while I'd been learning to cook. What I couldn't understand, however, was how she managed to turn them into lumps of charred darkness. "Those aren't pancakes," I told her bluntly. "Those are not pancakes."

She flushed, just a little, and turned back to the stove. "Well, teach me how to make them, then." she said. I shrugged and reached around her for the box of pancake batter.

"Alright, first we've got to get rid of this," I told her. "Store-bought mix doesn't make very good pancakes. Secondly, you need to add liquid ingredients first, not dry ingredients. It's not just water, either. You might want to add a bit of egg to those, or maybe some apple juice."

And so it went that I began to teach Blake how to cook. She wasn't abysmal at it, or at least not as bad as Taiga and Kiritsugu, but she need a lot of work if she was even going to make it to Rin's level, never mind Sakura's or even mine. The two of us went over the process slowly.

"But why apple juice?" she asked. "Wouldn't that just evaporate?"

I added a bit of sugar to the mix. "Not exactly," I replied. "If you let the apple juice simmer with some sugar at first, you'll get a syrupy mixture that has a hint of apple flavoring to it. When you mix that in with the pancakes, you'll get a nice, fluffy material with a good flavor to it." I demonstrated by tipping the now syrup-consistency apple juice into the pan at the same time as the pancake mix. The smell of apple and flour filled the air for a few brief moments, then a low sizzle started to hiss from the bottom of the pan and I set it down for the time being.

"Jaune." I turned to face Blake. Her eyes glinted with something akin to worry, although I couldn't be too sure. Out of everyone in team SRBR, me included, she was by far the hardest to read or get a straight answer out of. "Why did you tell us to stand down when you fired those arrows? We could have kept of shooting and made it even easier for you."

"Oh, that's guys might have been in the blast radius." At her confused look, I elaborated. "I've only ever seen Caladbolg II used in battle once, but that one time was enough to leave a mark on me. The explosion was, as I'm sure you know, massive. I didn't know how big it would end up this time around, so if it did end up reaching all the way to the school, I didn't want you guys and the other students to get hurt. I probably could have have stopped it from reaching you with a Rho Aias, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

Blake didn't even blink at the unfamiliar terms, instead glaring at me. "That means you would have been killed by the blast too."

Oh. Oops, I hadn't even thought of that. "Well, better me than someone else, right?" I tried to avoid her gaze.

The pancakes came flipping neatly out of the pan and onto a plate that I'd pulled out of the cupboard. I set another batch to cooking, then turned to Blake, a bit of trepidation in my limbs. Hold on, were those tears in her eyes?

Indeed, her gold eyes were gleaming with unshed wetness, and she gently took my hand as I sat down again, almost as if I would break if she held it too hard. "Jaune," she began. Her throat seemed to seize up, and she stopped for a second, but she plowed onwards. "Jaune, try not to think like that. Of course you're worth something more than just helping people. I've done a lot of... unsavory things over the years, but I know that nobody's worthless, no matter how despicable they are. And you, Jaune Arc, are not despicable by any stretch of the word." She fell silent, then spoke up one last time. "I knew someone like you as well, back in the day. He was a good friend of mine, and he hated humans, but he would do anything for a Faunus in need, no matter the cost to his own life. Jaune, you're not worthless."

"I know that as well," I told her. She blinked back at me, surprised. It was hard explaining my Distortion to people, so I usually left it as "I don't feel self-worth unless I help people", but Blake deserved more than that, both as my teammate and a friend that cared about this simple sword. "I do know that, don't get me wrong. I just don't feel it. I can understand why people help me and care for me, but my mind is the part that tells me that."

You know, when I really thought about it, it really wasn't my mind that got fractured so badly in that Fire. Sure, it was messed up, but that was something completely different, a trauma that faded with time until I could accept it for what it was and not wake up screaming every night to the image of fire and corpses littering my room in the Emiya estate. No, what really got torn to shreds that were incapable of repair were...

"My feelings." I breathed slowly. "My emotions were the things that got shattered so badly back then. After _that, _I was completely and totally unable to understand people sympathizing and empathizing with me- not with my mind, but with my heart. Instead, it all must have gone into sympathizing and empathizing with other people. I can understand why you're worried about me, but at the same time, I don't understand why I'm so important to you."

"Why you're- Jaune, of course you're important to me!" she exclaimed. "You and Ruby and Ren, you're all important to me. You're my partner, and my friend besides that. I'm not going to let you think that way while we're partners, either."

"You're not the only person to say that," I told her. It was true; I'd heard almost the exact same thing from Rin, Saber, and even Taiga at one point.

"Yeah, I understand," I continued. The pancakes were swiftly slapped onto a plate. A third batch followed in relative silence, until- "Thanks, Blake, but in the end Jaune Arc is someone who cares about other people over himself."

Blake looked like she wanted to argue, but after a moment of irritation, her face gave way to resignation. "Just don't throw your life away for a stupid reason, and we'll have no problems," she said, looking me straight in the eyes. I nodded and smiled. A faint tingle of happiness and genuine warmth that I hadn't felt since my last moments with Saber was running up and down my spine.

"Agreed." After that, we set to work, side by side and completing our task of making breakfast in amiable silence.

Ruby was the next to get out of bed, though judging by the light bags under his eyes and the book he was immersed in, Ren had probably been awake since Blake's outburst. He nodded a greeting to me as I walked past and slipped into my blazer. His eyes raked my form for no more than three seconds, then nodded as if he was confirming something and returned to his book. Ruby, on the other hand, was much more worried about my condition.

"You're sure you're alright, then?" she asked for the fifth (and probably not the last) time as she sat down. Despite her obvious love of sweets, her eyes barely strayed from mine as she ate, which was a testament to how worried she was about me. I smiled.

"I'm positive. My Aura is many things, but I'll be damned if it isn't powerful." I flexed a bicep to demonstrate. "See, everything's fine, and I can't feel my stomach brushing against my skin anymore. That probably counts for something."

She giggled and took another bite. "So, what's going on today?"

I checked my Scroll. "Well, since the Grimm attack started in the West and North wings several of the classrooms are damaged and most of the labs aren't connected to the power grid right now, so even if we did have classes we wouldn't learn anything. Since the teachers and the older students managed to fight off the rest of the Grimm last night, though, I'll bet you that us first years are going to be clearing the grounds or the classrooms."

Right on schedule, a voice popped out of our Scrolls, playing in eerie unison. "Attention, students of Beacon Academy," Glynda's voice droned. "Since our defense efforts against the Grimm were a success, we have some time on our hands. As such, all classes will be canceled and students and teachers alike will be assisting in the restoration efforts. First years will be contracted to fixing the campus grounds and park. The second years will be tasked with the restoration of the West Wing's first and second floors. The third years..."

It went on, listing each of the students' responsibilities before wishing us luck and ordering us to get to work at the nearest possible convenience. I pushed away from the table as soon as the message ended. Ruby groaned about finishing her pancakes, but belatedly followed us out the door.

"Ren!" I shouted past the noise of water beating against tile. "When you get out of the shower, meet us at the grounds in front of the Ballroom!"

"Alright!" he yelled back. With that done, we headed outside to deal with the worst of the damage.

Usually, when it came to battlegrounds, the damage was extensive and not easily fixed. With Aura, however, it was much easier to do. The big problem was that the grounds, which were once lush, green and vibrant, were now just piles of dirt and grass thrown every which way in an attempt to gain ground against the pressing attacks of the students. The damage was by far the worst at the junction between the walls and the ground, where circling Grimm and scrabbling Huntsmen and Huntresses had carved what amounted to a thin, deep moat into the ground. Already, the first years were setting to work, using their Aura to help them lift heavy loads of dirt and mud. A multicolored glow settled around the shadows cast by the morning sunlight being intercepted by the trees that ringed the plateau.

"Alright, let's do this!" Ruby shouted before running over to a pile of dirt nearly as big as she was. She imbued her arms with Aura and tried lifting it.

Before I continue, I'd like to point out that dirt isn't a single, solid object, but rather a multitude of small, solid objects. As such, the moment Ruby tried to lift it over her head, it collapsed on her with naught but a cloud of dust.

I sighed. "Ruby, let's get some shovels," I told her. The pile of dirt replied with a dispassionate grunt. I felt the corners of my mouth twitch upwards as I asked an older student for a few wide-bladed shovels. Blake and I immediately began filling in the holes the Grimm had created while Ruby extricated herself from the pile of dirt she'd buried herself in.

The work was tedious, but I liked that kind of work. It was slow and methodical, which gave me plenty of time to discuss the more recent events around Vale with the rest of my team. Ren joined us about ten minutes into our efforts, wearing nothing but a towel at first. Our supervisor, a second-year named Velvet Scarlatina, had to send him back after a few minutes from almost every female and several males in the vicinity blushing furiously at his near-naked body, including her. Ren just shrugged and went to grab his green battle outfit.

Ruby and I got into a heated discussion about what types of desserts were better than what. Ruby seemed stalwart on chocolate chip cookies, even when I described a number of other dishes. In the end, I promised to make her try a chocolate zuccotto at some point, to which she readily agreed. Blake and I mostly kept silent when we were working near each other, although the occasional banter didn't go unappreciated. It was comfortable work, one that provided just as good of a workout as any sparring session.

Several hours and a few metric tons of dirt later, the first year class broke for lunch. I was handed a bottle of water by Velvet that I guzzled down without a second thought. The sun was stiflingly hot in its apex, even for a day which by all other means should have been blustery and cold. Most of us were burnt out of Aura by that point, which made the growth of the grass a serious issue. There were airships and helicopters in the sky, circling the area around the Academy. I idly trained a sword-arrow on one as it passed by.

"Hey, keep that thing away from my ship, Jaune!" the pilot snapped, his voice clear even though we were a quarter mile apart. Oh, that was the guy with the really nice leather seats, wasn't it? To be fair, those seats were extraordinarily high quality leather.

I set the sword down and replaced EMIYA's bow on my back. "Sorry!" I yelled back. He flew away, satisfied, and returned to observing the ground with a keen eye. Blake gave me a strange look, but I brushed her off with a raised hand and turned to the approaching footsteps from behind me. Ozpin was picking his way around the eating students. His eyes were set on me, a spark glinting in their brown depths.

"Ah, you're awake and fully healed," he said as he approached. "I'm surprised, Jaune. Most people would take days to repair having their internal organs liquefied, and that would be with Cander's strict supervision. Maybe there's more to your fantastical tale than I gave you credit for."

"Can I help you, Headmaster?" I wasn't really in a bad mood, but Ozpin was maneuvering around a subject, and that was never good. Something was keeping his mouth from forming into its tiny, natural smile as well.

"Jaune, be nice!" Blake and Ruby hissed in unison, kicking me in each shin. They recoiled, clutching their feet, when I Reinforced my body to make it about as hard as iron. Ozpin's grim frown lightened just a little bit. "Actually," he replied, "you can. If I may speak to you in my office, we can discuss the situation further."

"Ah." So that was it. Either he'd found information on Nrvnqsr, or he'd managed to track down Mr. Dawn. Either situation most definitely required my assistance, considering I was the foremost expert on my world in Remnant. I stood and, motioning for Blake to remain seated, followed Ozpin to his office, high up in the Beacon towers.

The walk was made in silence. As I passed, I noticed various teachers and students repairing the damage made to the infrastructure of the building. From pillars to walls and even the windowsills, nearly everything except the ceilings had taken some form of damage. The teachers glanced at Ozpin and I as we passed. They probably assumed that I was some troublemaking kid who got in trouble for goofing off.

When Ozpin entered his office, he wasted no time in sitting in his seat and calling up several screens from the holographic projectors on his desk. He motioned me over.

The picture on the screen was one of a thick-jawed man with a pair of small sunglasses and spiky chestnut hair. His skin, tinted green from the projector's light, was almost as brown as his hair. Mr. Dawn looked back at us, his profiling showing no expression whatsoever. Next to his picture, his name, approximate age and a few other statistics were listed in bullet order. Ozpin gestured to the tiny description underneath his age meter.

"This describes everything we know about Mr. Dawn," he explained. "As you can see, it's not very much." Just like he said, there were only four or five lines detailing his various personality traits and a few other minor details. "The thing is, he's been recorded since about forty years ago, and his age doesn't change at all. Is he one of the Dead Apostle Ancestors?"

I immediately shook my head. "No, that wouldn't be possible. I can almost guarantee you that one of the Burial Agency is a Dead Apostle, but it's not Mr. Dawn. He doesn't have the right look for it, first of all. Other than a few rare cases, most of the Apostles I know of have pale skin. I think the only humanoid one that doesn't have pale skin is Nrvnqsr, and even then he doesn't have a particular form. There's no way that Mr. Dawn can be an Apostle, and that's not the only evidence I have for it. I won't explain it now, but you can kind of tell where an Apostle is depending on how much blood follows in their wake."

"That's good," Ozpin commented, sliding another screen around. This time it was an image that I was much more familiar with. "I take it you remember the Lumen orphanage?"

"How could I not?" I asked him, grinning.

"Well, he's shown up there again." That cut my fond thoughts short. "Yes, I see you understand the gravity of the situation. I want to keep Mr. Dawn on our good side for now, and you're the best person to do it. There's also the factor of Tabitha and Martin Warner. Tell me, how are they coming along in their studies?"

"I'm not there enough to be a really good teacher to Tabitha," I admitted. "Not by a Magus' standard, anyways. She soaks up information like a sponge, though, and she and her brother are smart and independent enough to start practicing Magecraft. I'm trusting Tabitha to keep her brother's impulses and lack of moral code in check, and so far she's doing a good job."

"Will she be able to defend herself and the orphanage if it comes down to it?"

"Absolutely not!" I said. "She can barely perform Projection, for Akasha's sake! Ozpin, you can't seriously expect someone who's been practicing Magecraft for four months to be strong enough to defend an entire orphanage of people, can you?"

"You seem to be an exception," he noted. There wasn't a trace of emotion in his voice, just a grim determination that bled through the brown in his eyes and made them seem cold and grey, just like his.

"That's different!" I roared, slamming my hand down on the desk. The lens of one of his holographic projectors cracked under my palm, and when I took my hand away, Mr. Dawn's face was splintered around the room. "I have a unique specialty that makes me suited for combat, and I still had to train for ten years and fight in a fucking war to master my skills to this extent! You can't expect a complete novice with average talent for Reinforcement and Projection alone to protect a group of fifty one children and twenty pious, pacifistic adults from someone of a Burial Agent's level!"

Ozpin said nothing during my outburst. He sipped from his coffee, but other than that, there was no sound other than the crackling of a stray spark in the projection unit and my slight increase in breathing. That silence stretched for one minute, then two, and five. Finally, painfully, Ozpin set his mug down.

"Alright, I'm trusting your judgment on this, Jaune," he muttered, his voice almost a whisper. "If I find that this was just a reason to go on some heroic crusade and you've wasted the use of one of my teams, I will not hesitate to punish you severely. Normally, first years don't get to undertake missions until the second semester, but I'll make an exception this one time. As of tomorrow, you and the rest of Team SRBR are to report to Lumen orphanage until either I say you leave or Mr. Dawn leaves. Question him if you can, but don't make any aggressive movements unless he attacks the orphanage."

I nodded wordlessly, still angry with the man, and turned to leave. "Jaune!" he called as I opened the door. I spun again. There was genuine remorse in his eyes, and for a moment, it threw me for a loop. "I really do have the safety of those children in mind, you know. I guess I'm just assuming too much of the Magi."

"Word of the wise, Ozpin," I shot back. "Never underestimate a Magus."

With that, I slammed the door shut and stalked down the hallway, ready to reunite with my team and return my focus to menial labor.

* * *

On top of the spire of a tall church's steeple, a man stood. His large feet were balanced perfectly on the tip of the spike, as though he weighed less than a feather. His long brown hair waved in the wind, above shaved eyebrows and dark olive eyes. Those eyes narrowed sharply, becoming a focused, paralyzing glare out of a vacantly bored expression. He dropped to the ground without a second thought. The orders from his Master were clear, and he was not about to disobey them, even if he didn't like them.

He was a Servant after all, and Servants typically served their Masters. It was just the way things were.

When he touched the ground, the only indication that he was there at all was the slight tap of toenails on stone and a faint breeze blowing outwards from the crushing weight. His target, a young girl with strong black hair, looked back for a scant second, then continued on her way into the woods. She had a knife in her hands, a ritual dagger from what he could see. It was an interesting sight to see on a child so small, unless she was a Magus. The possibility of such a thing was high. Nevertheless, the Servant still refrained from attacking. Children could be dangerous Magi, but in the end their powers were still lesser to a spirit like him. His innate Magic Resistance, B rank at its finest in Saber class, would protect him from any spells the girl could cast anyway.

The girl met up with a boy that looked too much like her to be a simple acquaintance in the shallows of the woods. The two discussed something he couldn't hear for a long while. Neither made any indication that he was there. Whoever this Magus girl was, she wasn't very good at detecting Heroic Spirits. At least she had the ability to weave a Bounded Field, however rudimentary.

He made sure to keep his eye on the priest with the strange power to walk between dimensions during the whole encounter. He noticed the emblem of the Burial Agency, a sect of the Christian Church that specialized in dealing with spirits and vampires, much like himself. There was no doubt that the priest could see him, even in Astral form. He pondered on their identities for a while, even after they left.

It seemed like his Master was right. This Tabitha Warner did have some potential after all. It would truly be a shame to kill her.

* * *

**Ooh, a mystery's afoot! But putting that aside, let's get to reviews.**

**snoogenz: Thanks for coming back! When it comes to Avalon, I think it's debatable. Most people write about how he knows everything about anything he looks at, but when it comes to Conceptual Weapons like Avalon, it gets a bit more complicated. Conceptual Weapons _should_ really defy Gaia's authority, but they don't. If it were anything other than a Conceptual Weapon, you'd be right, but things like Avalon kinda throw it up in the air. Basically, the reason this Shirou can Trace Avalon is because he's so attuned to it, not because he knows everything about it. Yes, he does have a connection with Saber, but... well, I can't say anything else, because that would spoil the plot. **

**Tsamoka: There was a description in there, but I wouldn't be surprised if you missed it. I tend to describe things within the flow of the paragraph, instead of stopping the action completely to write out a brief summary of whatever I'm describing. If I remember correctly, it's in between the Grimm Classification chart and Shirou and his team entering the ballroom.**

**ShadowofAxios: heh.**

**NewAgeOfPower: Shirou, in this fic, has 74 Magic Circuits. In this case, he's just not using them all at once. **

**TheConstellation: Thanks for reading! On the contrary, however, last chapter was the second-longest one I've written for this fic!**

**Skywrd Swrd: You're absolutely right on Shirou winning by ability rather than strength. The example I was pointing to was, you guessed it, James D. Fawkes. The guy's a good writer, and I enjoyed Shirou in Fate/Revenant Sword and Miracle of Zero, but his power scale for Shirou is off the charts. Must come from writing all those Naruto fics.**

**Karlos1234ify: Well... heh.**

**That seems to be it for this chapter! I hope to have the next one out on Tuesday, and it'll either be early Tuesday or very late Monday, since Planetside 2 is launching on PS4 on Tuesday and I'm probably going to spend two straight days playing that. Well, that and FFXIV: Heavensward. So long for now, and happy reading!**


	15. Reliance

**Hello everyone, and wel- oh, fuck it. I'm sorry guys. This chapter was originally supposed to be posted last Tuesday, but I had multiple meetings with my college advisor that week, and I thought I'd just stick to schedule and post this on Saturday. I was going to, and I had this all edited and ready to post, and...**

**Well, I kinda got into a boating accident and fell off a dam. Don't worry, it was a small one! I still spent most of Saturday in the hospital, and I was so sore Sunday that I could barely get out of bed to relieve myself. I've been recovering for the past couple of days, and I only just remembered about a half hour ago that this was ready to be posted. **

**Now that that's out of the way, let's get to the chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 15: Spearmanship**

"Ahh, it's so cute!" Ruby squealed, looking down on the orphanage from her window. The pilot with the really nice leather seats once again offered to fly me and my team to Lumen at no charge, on the condition that I wouldn't let any of the kids into the passenger bay. He glanced back at me, just to make sure I wasn't puking all over his ship, then returned his eyes to the landing circle.

I wasn't puking, thankfully, but I didn't feel very good either. I was honestly looking forward to seeing Tabitha and Martin again, but the idea that Mr. Dawn and his Burial Agency friends were there and dangerous didn't sit well with me. I released a breath and forced my muscles to relax. I glanced out the window; Lumen really did look cutesy in the air, with its swooping curves and fairy-tale architecture.

The airship went aground with a light thunk. Ruby wanted to race out of the ship at the first opportunity, but she did calm down a bit when I pointed out that

she had absolutely no idea where she was going. With an embarrassed pout, she allowed me to take the lead, and I led them to the edge of the woods. The stones of the path were slightly scuffed, as if they were recently trodden on, but then again, the priests and nuns that lived there made daily trips around the plateau to tend to the woods.

"Get him!"

I whirled, Tracing a sword without a second thought and deflecting the body that came sailing towards me. In the time that it took for my team to react to the sudden declaration, two more people dropped down from the trees and charged me. I pulled one around by the arm and kicked the other one, lightly, in the stomach. They both flopped to the ground, stunned.

I turned again at the thudding sound of footsteps on loose stone and twisted around the tiny fist that Martin threw at me. I kicked him behind the knee, sending his balance to hell and toppling over. My Instinct blared suddenly, and I used my sword for the first time.

Without turning around and wasting time, I just brought it up and laid the flat against my back to block the strike from the knife that was stabbed at my spine. I grabbed the arm of the person behind me, eliciting a high pitched squeak of pain.

"Good job, kids," I told them earnestly. They mostly just groaned in response, though I saw one or two crack a smile. "You actually forced me to use a sword for the first time. Martin, good job on trying to overpower me, but zero times five is still zero. Tabitha..."

I smiled and turned around. Tabitha was rubbing her arm, but the knife was still in her hand. "That was absolutely incredible. Tell me, is it Traced?"

Tabitha blushed and hid the knife behind her back. It was just a random kitchen knife, but there was a strong feeling of prana coming from it, and the fact that it didn't degrade or outright shatter when it came into contact with my Traced sword meant it was of Gradation Air quality at the very least. "Yeah," she muttered, turning her face away. "I tried to do that Projecting thing again, but I did it like you do, with the history and everything. But it worked!" She pulled the knife from her back again and displayed it to me proudly. "I even got the Structural Analysis part completely right!"

I took it from her gingerly and inspected it. It was indeed perfectly made, and I even managed to glean some parts of its history with my Structural Analysis.

"Good job, really," I told her, ruffling her hair. She shied away from my touch, but still beamed.

"Can anyone tell me what's going on?!" Ruby asked, confused. I blinked. She was looking at the kids crawling along the floor with complete stupefaction. Blake and Ren looked similarly confused, but at least they had their hands on their weapons. Blake gave me a hard glare that told me quite plainly that if I didn't answer her questions I would be in for a hard interrogation.

I grimaced. "Why don't we sit down and explain everything to them, Tabitha?"

The black haired girl nodded enthusiastically, utterly oblivious to the harsh glares that were being sent my way.

* * *

"So let me get this straight, one last time," Blake said, holding her temple with a daintily deadly hand. "You're her teacher, and she has this weird connection with people's Auras that can mimic their Semblances, right? Did I get that right?"

"Well, that's not all of it," I admitted. "But yeah, you have the most important bits down."

"Jaune, you're only sixteen. Why the hell do you need to start teaching someone right now, especially your suicidal kind of fighting?"

I shrugged and pulled out one of my journals. Tabitha was practically salivating towards it, while Martin was rubbing his stomach, still in pain from the kick that had sent him to the ground and straight onto an upturned rock. "The older a person gets, the harder it is to train with their Aura. By starting young, I'm giving Tabitha an advantage that most independent Huntresses don't have, and I can't really teach her anything about formal Hunting until we learn more ourselves. Really, I'm just teaching her the basics at this point." While that wasn't a lie, it wasn't exactly the truth, either.

Tabitha didn't know that she was a Magus; on reflex, I'd kept the secret from her under the guise that she had a very finicky Semblance, and once that mindset was locked in place I didn't have the heart or the courage to correct it. Granted, that wouldn't be a problem except for one thing: training. If she went too long without training her Magic Circuits then they would end up like my old ones did, atrophied and unusable, and I didn't know if her soul would accept that. She and Martin had expressly admitted to me that their greatest dream was to become Hunters, and Tabitha only had one teacher that she could rely on at the moment, as opposed to the many Magi willing to pass down the basics of a particular craft back at the Clock Tower. There were two main reasons that most Magi had more than one tutor in their lifetime: one, that the tutor usually died before they could complete their training, and two, because the tutor couldn't use the kinds of spells that the apprentice had an affinity for. Tabitha had an affinity for the Western variant of Air, which made things involving the sky and the higher altitudes easier to weather for her. As for me, I couldn't even cast the simplest of Air spells, let alone teach her anything about it. The most I'd managed to do for her was unravel the idea behind Invisible Air and teach her how to apply the enchantment to other objects, and that had taken nearly all of her prana and two months of work on my part. As for things like offensive Air spells, I probably fought against them better than I did teaching them.

So, I wasn't a good teacher, but I was better than having no teacher at all.

"Okay, I can get that. But why your particular Semblance?" Blake pressed, clearly unhappy with my response. Alright, this was it. The moment of truth. "Why does she have to learn the kind of style you can use?"

I held out the journal, its pages flipped open to a long series of notes that circled a group of heavily edited information on Crests. "I was thinking," I began warily, knowing that if anyone had any clue of what I was talking about they'd be in an uproar in an instant, "of making a Crest for myself and passing it off to Tabitha when I get too old for combat or die."

"Crest?" Tabitha asked immediately.

I nodded and handed the book over to her. She was good at splitting her attention, and I knew from her perked head that even though she was reading, she was also probably listening to me intently. Blake leaned in as well. "I was talking to Ozpin a few weeks ago, and he brought up a way to transfer the knowledge and experience of a person's Semblance to another. It's called a Crest, mostly because it marks you with a series of sigils designed to keep the donor's Semblance active and the recipient's Semblance repressed until the donor's merges enough with the recipient's soul to replace the old Semblance.. It's a rarely used process, since the pain one has to endure is nearly unbearable, but it's been around for a long time and it works wonders if performed successfully."

There, that should do it for my explanation of passing Tabitha a Magic Crest. If I was going to live here for the rest of my life, I'd need to find an heir eventually, and with the people on this world I could never be too sure. Besides, Tabitha seemed like a trustworthy enough girl, given a decade or two of actual life experience. It also wasn't a lie, something that I was grateful for. Crests did exist on Remnant, and they were extremely rare, but they existed. Only a handful of other Huntsmen had obtained another's Semblance, Jaune's father chief among them. It seemed that I was fated for the same thing unless one of Jaune's seven sisters stepped up to the offer, and none of them so far had.

"Wow, that sounds so cool!" Tabitha exclaimed. She closed the book and turned to me, her eyes sparkling with a pleading desire that only children could reproduce. "Can you make a Magic Crest for me, Jaune? Please?"

"Not just yet," I told her, watching her wilt with no small amount of regret. "It's not that I don't want to, it's just that I have no idea how to do it. Mostly, the only people who know how to create Crests do it for a steep price, and there aren't any around here that I know of. So far, the only progress I've made is actually looking up books with the basic information on it, but I don't know how to code the information into a pattern."

Tabitha brightened, but only a little bit, still looking dejected that she wouldn't be able to immediately inherit my Tracing abilities. Still, it was really impressive that she'd managed to start Tracing in only four months of time, especially when she was new to Magecraft right from the start of her program. She must have been working with her prana nonstop since I'd started teaching her how to harness it. Even if I had been able to explain the nuances of Tracing in great detail to her, it still required hundreds of hours of exertion with Structural Analysis to be marginally useful in a fight. The fact that she'd been able to Trace something like a knife, instead of something related to her affinity such as something like a paper airplane or the like, was astounding for a Magus, talented or not.

"Tabitha..." I began, my voice softening somewhat. She looked at me inquisitively. "How many times did you have to use Structural Analysis to learn the knife's history?"

She pouted. "I thought you wouldn't think of that," she grumbled. "I had to use Structural Analysis forty seven times to start learning the history, and it took another fifteen times to get the entire history of the knife in one piece. I really have a lot more training to do to get to your level, don't I, Jaune?"

It only took her sixty two tries? That's... absurd. There was no way even I'd be able to do it in so few tries at that age. Shisui was an exception to the rule, because its sheer level of accrued experience had bled over into my mind when I was Analyzing it, but otherwise at age eleven it would take me seventy tries at the least to piece together enough of the item to Trace it.

"Well, I wouldn't say you have as much as you think." She blinked and looked up at me. Blake and Ren did the same. Ruby was just blinking, utter confusion crossing her face. Honestly, the girl was a lot smarter than I gave her credit for, but sometimes her attention span dwindled to absolutely nothing. "You're already farther than I was at your age. Granted, I didn't have the capacity for using my Aura back then, so it was a lot harder for me, but you're still advancing at an astounding rate."

"You didn't have the capacity for Aura?" Blake asked. "But then how are you doing your Tracing? Is it Avalon that's giving you the power?"

"No, it's not," I explained. "What I used to do was channel so much of my soul that it would bleed out into the physical world and make a sword. It was nothing at all like what I do now. Now, all I have to do is push a little bit of Aura into a mental mold, and the sword appears."

"But that would hurt, right?" Ren was quiet at best, but even he could express quite a bit of emotion with a few simple words. "That would hurt a lot. Way more than something like a sword wound."

Tabitha turned her eyes to me again, and instantly I knew that I had no chance of ever lying and telling them that no, it didn't hurt. Tabitha's eyes had widened to the point of Ilya's when she wanted something. I personally referred to it as the "desperate imouto" face. There was an immutable law in the world, in every world, that said that if an older brother were to find themselves as the focus of that accursed gaze, they would be powerless to stop their little sister from getting anything they wanted.

As I sweated under Tabitha's wide eyes, her mouth moved slowly. "Is that true?" she asked. "Did it hurt?"

I bit my tongue as it spasmed of its own accord. I would not give in. I would not give in. I would not give in...

"It did," I admitted quietly. Dammit! "But not nearly as much as the Fire. I could handle it, easily."

Tabitha tilted her head again, ready to ask another question, but Blake cut her off with a sharp and quick question. "So when you used to just force your soul to shape things, why didn't you just bleed out of Aura and die?"

I smiled. Tabitha looked angry that her question was ignored, but she dropped the subject, similarly eager to learn something that could be of use. "Quite astute of you, Blake," I told her. She simply nodded with the compliment. "Every soul has a different link between the body. Ren,'s for example, can only take so much before the strain starts to wear on the bond between the soul and the body, and he is rendered unable to use his Aura. Blake and Ruby, on the other hand, can use more because their souls are more closely connected to their bodies than Ren's. Mine, in perspective, can handle much more than Ruby's can, mostly because I was born with a soul that was very tuned with my body and mind. It's one of the reasons I can use Gae Bolg as accurately as I can, even though I'm nowhere near as good as the original wielder."

Everyone nodded. Even Tabitha recognized the name Gae Bolg, as it was the first weapon I'd used to demonstrate my Tracing to her when I'd begun teaching her. I'd demonstrated Gae Bolg's signature attack against a stray Beowolf that had been stalking around the forest about two months ago.

Needless to say, it had been Tabitha's goal ever since to eventually be able to Trace that spear.

Ruby raised a hand as well, shooting hers up the second Blake's fell. "What about that Structural Analysis thing?" she asked. "What's that about?"

"There are seven steps I follow for Tracing." I held out my hand and mentally ran through the checklist. "First, judge the concept of its creation. Second, hypothesize what the basic structure is. Third, use pr-Aura to duplicate the materials. Fourth, imitate the skill in which it's made. Fifth, understand and sympathize with its experience. Sixth, reproducing said experience. Seventh and finally, exceed every reproduction process." As I explained my mental checklist, Kanshou and Bakuya gathered into existence, mirroring my reproduction efforts first as transparent frameworks, then as rough blueprints, and finally as finished steel products. Just for good measure, I placed a bit of Reinforced prana inside them to make them shine brighter before shattering them. "It'll probably be a while before Tabitha can reach this level of skill with her power. The only thing I can do at this point is teach her how to harness it and give show her down the right path to further hone her Tracing."

The girl in question didn't seem happy with my rebuttal of her assumed skill level. I said as much to Ruby, who stifled a giggle. Tabitha, on the other hand, looked conflicted between disapproval and excitement.

She pounced on my back. "Teach me some more stuff!" she demanded. I chuckled.

"Let's go see the others first, then I can teach you more. Maybe we'll start on battle tactics tonight?"

Tabitha beamed, anger entirely forgotten.

* * *

Blake Belladonna didn't understand Jaune Arc, and it was starting to get on her nerves. Every time he revealed one of his many secrets to her and her team, another three would pop up in its place.

As Jaune and Tabitha led them to the dining hall, she glanced him over with a curious eye. His hair seemed a little more red and a little less blond than it had a few days ago, and his skin was definitely darkening to a more tan look. That would have been normal for any growing boy who spent a lot of time outside, but ever since Professor Goodwitch opened the training halls to the first years the week before Jaune had barely spent any noticeable time outside. If anything, he should have been getting paler under the blues and whites of the artificial lighting, so why...?

Then there was his gait. It was unsteady, uneven, as if he weren't used to walking in legs of that size. She had seen Jaune in combat, and then there was never a misstep, never a single mistake that could have cost him. Outside the matches, however, he seemed a lot more clumsy and prone to tripping. His monthly checkups from Cander proved unusual as well, as he seemed to be fluctuating between almost two meters to one and two-thirds. It wasn't a drastic change when going up, but when he shrank a dozen centimeters in the span of a week?

Blake blinked as Jaune's voice echoed in her mind. He was slipping up on his speech a few time as well. She had distinctly heard him say something about a foster father when they had been a new team in the Emerald Forest, but later when she'd researched the Arcs for an essay on the Grimm War she'd discovered that both of Jaune's parents were biological. There were also no incidents that portrayed Jaune as being disowned, and he'd never slipped up with the "adoptive" portion again, instead referring to Gillian Arc as his true father. Then there was mention of a Fire. She didn't know much about the history of Vale aside from the barebones basics, having come all the way from Vacuo, but she was fairly sure there hadn't been any big fires in the area in well over four decades. It could have been a childhood trauma cause by a fireplace, but the way he'd said it made it sound much more... big.

Blake sighed. What was she to do, with a team that seemed functional but was rife with secrets? Ren was a hard person to read, Ruby had something about her family that she just wouldn't reveal, Jaune's slip-ups, and her own history. It was a recipe for disaster in the finest of situations, and in the worst it could tear them all apart forever.

She would just have to do what she always did: soldier on and hope that along the way something good would happen.

* * *

"Jaune, over here!"

"No, he's sitting with us, stupid!"

"Don't call me stupid, stupid! Get over here!"

I sighed as the fight erupted around me once again. As per usual, the kids had started fighting over me the moment I walked into the dining hall with my team and my food. The kids all loved getting visitors, even Martin, Tabitha and Terrence, the coldest kids there. I smiled tiredly to the nun who had greeted me on my first day. She gave me an apologetic wave, then beamed back in a show of thanks.

Really, I wasn't here so much for hanging out with the kids, although that was a nice bonus. Really, though, I was here to make them happy. These kids were noticeably irritated sometimes, but their moods did a complete one-eighty whenever I walked into the room. Even as the two tables of children started duking it out, I could see the wide grins on their faces. They knew that the priests wouldn't stop them from fighting when I was around.

Mostly because I would break up their brawls before they got too out of hand.

A half-dozen swords appeared near me, rotating lazily in their orbit around my form. "Now, children," I intoned, smiling slightly. "Let's eat our dinner before getting too energetic, shall we?"

There was a unanimous shout of "yes, sir!" before the offending groups of kids took their seats once more, looking for all the world as if nothing had ever happened. Their beaming smiles lifted my mood just a little.

"Jaune, over here! Sit with us!" Terrence waved me over to his table. Martin was on his left, while a small blonde girl with piercing blue eyes and a button nose was huddled to his right, dressed in a thick coat but still looking cold. Her short, pointed ears flicked back and forth nervously. Merchie Oers was a sweet Faunus girl that was orphaned in a blizzard in the northern reaches of Atlas a few years back. Gods only knew how she managed to sneak her way to Vale, but when she did she was immediately given a home in Lumen, and she'd begun to stick to Terrence like glue.

Now, years later, she was still absolutely smitten with the dark-skinned boy.

Tabitha raced to sit next to her brother, beckoning me to join her as well. I rolled my eyes, but followed and took my seat.

"How've you been, Terry?" I asked him. "Not still gambling against Bishop Rolben, are you? You know you have terrible luck."

Terrence pouted even as the rest of my team sat across from me, looking a bit overwhelmed by the talkative children trying to crowd around them. "I'm not that bad," he grumbled. "I even managed to win a game of blackjack against him a few days ago!"

"You shouldn't even be playing blackjack at your age, much less betting money on it," I sighed. Terrence grinned unabashedly.

"Alright, everyone," the blonde nun called brightly. Everyone's attention turned simultaneously towards her. "Let's eat!"

"Yeah!" The children systematically tore apart their food, somehow managing to keep all of their mess on their plates despite the fact that almost half the food missed their mouths entirely. I took the meal at a far slower pace, cutting cleanly and precisely into the meat before carrying it to my mouth. It was a smooth, repetitive task that allowed me to focus on my conversations with the kids.

"So, anything new with your Semblance, Jaune?" Terrence asked. Tabitha perked up and nodded her head, eager to hear as well. It had taken a bit of time to convince Tabitha that what she had were part of her Semblance, and after that it had taken her an even longer time to accept the fact that she would probably never be as good at Tracing and Weapon Manipulation as I was. Nevertheless, she tried, and was becoming all the more formidable a child because of it.

"A couple of things, but let's wait until dinner's over before I show you guys." The two grinned to each other and focused more on their food for another few minutes. Terrence didn't have any natural Circuits of his own, but despite that, he was still eager to learn as much as he could on the subject. Terrence was a natural bookworm, and once I'd managed to rid him of the stigma that books were boring, he'd taken to my disguised Magecraft lessons with gusto. He and Tabitha were often together now, much to Merchie's ire, discussing Tabitha's progress.

"Aw, come on, let's see one now!" Martin demanded. He placed a hand on the table for emphasis. Thankfully he didn't slam his fist on his plate like the first time I'd denied him information. The mess that made had been spectacular, and when I say spectacular, I mean even Zelretch would have a hard time reproducing that kind of food fight.

I grinned just slightly as he continued complaining about the lack of information. Yep, Gilgamesh was definitely rubbing off on me. Three swords, each one shaped like a spiralled drill, shot out of the air and past his face before stabbing into the cobbled floor. To his credit, he barely even flinched afterwards. "Alright then."

Before he had the chance to pull one of the hefty swords out of the ground, they shattered into motes of prana. "Come on, Jaune!" he whined. I simply smiled at him and continued eating. Across from me, Blake was looking at me like I'd grown a second head. It must have been weird for my team, since I'd mostly acted serious and solemn around them.

The rest of the dinner passed by in cheery conversation. Ruby eventually got into the kids' good graces, and the six of us spent the next half hour sending lighthearted jabs towards each other. I'd tried several times to get Blake and Ren in on it, but they seemed content to sit back and watch us. Well, Ren seemed content to do that; Blake seemed almost uncomfortable around the kids, especially Merchie.

Huh. Weird.

After dinner was finished, the kids piled on me one by one, each one asking for some story or adventure. I smiled slightly at their antics. They were so much more lively than when I'd first met them. I guess that having visitors really did make their lives more interesting.

"Alright, kids," I told them as they all took a seat around me. I was sitting on a fold out chair, my back hunched as I tried to think of a story to tell them. Something not too adult, but not too boring. Hmm...

"I got it! Alright, this is a story about a young king and her quest for a Holy Grail..."

* * *

My retelling of Saber's story ended after about an hour and a half. By then the sun had set and most of the younger kids were nodding off, so the blonde nun and I had set them to bed before returning to the mess hall. Most of the older kids had left in pursuit of other activities. Only my team, Terrence and the Warner siblings were left. I noticed Merchie peeking out from behind Terrence after a few seconds. Other than that, we were alone, with only the flickering of incandescent bulbs to keep us company.

"Alright, now let's learn some more!" Tabitha declared, rubbing her hands together. She grinned and held her hands out, and I smelled the familiar linen scent that signalled her prana beginning to flow.

"Alright, let's start with a recap," I told her carefully. Tabitha was an absolute nightmare to deal with if you stalled for too long, but usually you could earn her favor back by teaching her a new spell or allowing her to borrow a weapon to Trace. "How about a Projection to start. Not a Trace, just a Projection."

She nodded and closed her eyes. Her eyes flicked back and forth underneath her eyelids, a sure sign that she was trying to channel her prana. Slowly but surely, a form took shape between her palms, gradually taking the form of a candle. After thirty seconds, the form was complete, and Tabitha opened her eyes again. It wasn't anywhere near the time it took for me to Project, and the Tracing process would take at least four times as long for her, but it was still pretty impressive for someone who had only been practicing Magecraft for three months.

"Alright, good job," I told her. "Now, something related to your curious affinity to Air... Let's see, how about this?"

I Traced a sword from the Gate of Babylon and held it out to her. It was a nameless sword, but it held an Air affinity just like she did, and it had the ability to eject a blast of condensed air that would be guaranteed to deflect any blow that was under E ranked Strength. "This one is imbued with an Air spell that acts as a barrier," I told her. "Now, the first thing you need to know about Air is that most of its techniques are constant. You remember what that means?"

"A constant refers to a technique that requires a continual feed of energy to stay active," Tabitha recited dutifully. "Constants aren't affected by distance, but the longer one stays active, the higher the chance becomes that it will destabilize and implode. Thus, it's best to cancel a constant the moment it isn't needed, because keeping it active won't just drain you of your Aura, it might also accidentally destroy whatever is in its area of effect at the time."

"Good. I'm actually surprised you remembered all of that." I certainly didn't the first time I studied it. "Now, since most abilities and Semblances related to air are constant, what are they good for?"

"Oh, I know this one!" Terrence raised his hand excitedly. "Air attacks are best for fast-paced, shorter battles because they require the most energy to produce. Air techniques are generally on par with Fire ones, except that they work just as well at defending as they do with attacking. Your Invisible Air is a good example, right?"

"Right." I Traced Excalibur Image. Invisible Air automatically wrapped around it like a shroud of shifting fabric. The cooler night air made the breeze that was blowing off of it mist slightly, allowing everyone to see the faint outline of the sword it cloaked.

"As you can see," I continued, showing off Excalibur Image to my audience, "Invisible Air is powerful, but its main use is for concealment. When it's released, however..." I unraveled the bonds holding the torrent of wind together with a thought, and a veritable tornado erupted from Excalibur Image's end, blowing out the few candles that were still lit on the tables and throwing silverware hilt-deep into the stone walls. "It works well as a powerful offensive and defensive deterrent. Air is widely recognized as the most versatile element of the main five. It can't, however, heal or rejuvenate, like Ether and Water can."

"Can I try an Air spell?" Tabitha asked. I twitched; I hadn't recorded any wind spells in my journals except for the theory behind Invisible Air. Had she figured out a spell all on her own?

"Go ahead." Tabitha nodded eagerly and extended a hand. The candle shattered into prana. Even as the motes faded, a light breeze erupted from around Tabitha's feet, ruffling her shirt. She began chanting, her voice laced with airy power.

"Bones of six ancestors, holding the realm together with thy grip,

demand obedience arisen from the creatures of air and space.

Strike at the bonds and come to my aid with great and furious vengeance."

The prana in her system coalesced into a bright ball in her hand, sparkling with a combination of blue and green energy. She stopped feeding prana into the spell, and the roiling ball of smoke and prana stagnated into a swirling orb. "Draupnir!"

The spell exploded, releasing a furious storm of light and wind. It was enough to blow away the rest of the silverware that Invisible Air hadn't knocked away. It wasn't a Noble Phantasm, probably only a C rank spell on the Clock Tower scale at the most, but it was impressive nonetheless.

Blake jumped away from the blast, wide eyed, while Ruby and Ren shifted into combat stances. Terrence and Merchie stumbled and fell on their tailbones. Martin managed to withstand the gale, just barely, but even he took a few steps back to gain better ground against the blast.

"Holy..." Terrence breathed once the wind died down. Tabitha was standing with her palm still outstretched, panting a little. Sweat was gathering on her brow, a sure sign of od depletion. It wasn't surprising, considering that her body was meant to be channeling E and low-D rank spells at that point, but it still left me flabbergasted for a brief minute.

"That was... crazy," Ruby muttered under her breath. "A kid is learning something like that? Insane..."

"Did I do something wrong?" Tabitha asked, putting a questioning glance forward. I raised an eyebrow.

"No, that was really good considering you've been practicing for less than a year. But... where did you learn that kind of technique? Did you figure it out on your own, or did someone teach it to you?"

"Well, there's this priest that comes by named Mr. Dawn," Tabitha explained. My blood ran cold even as she continued her monologue. "He was doing patrols against any Grimm that might show up here when he caught me trying to Trace the kitchen knife from earlier. He gave me a few pointers on spells and taught me this one. Is he like you, Jaune?"

I winced. "...You could say that," I managed. "He's... an old acquaintance of mine. We used to work together... well, it's more like I once did his company a favor by taking down a monster."

"Was it one of the Grimm?" Tabitha asked excitedly. Her eagerness dwindled when she saw my face. I was probably scowling, but I had too much on my mind to think about the shape of my lips.

"No, it wasn't. He was something far, far worse." With that, the air turned somber, and no matter how much we all tried to bring it up, it didn't. We ended our meeting a half hour later, all of us having solemn frowns on our faces.

* * *

I woke up at midnight exactly. At first, I thought it was coincidence, but then I realized that no matter what the Curse said, I had E rank luck. I didn't, and still don't, believe in coincidences after what happened with the Grimm attack.

I sat up from one of the guest beds in a cold room in Lumen's East Wing. Beside me, Blake twitched a bit in her own bed, but other than that, everything was quiet. beams of light from a crescent moon washed the room in a white glow, further accentuating my teammates' pale skin tones. So far, I was the only person that appeared physically able to get a decent tan. Even Ren, who I was sure was Eastern and spent many of his hours in the sun, barely tanned more than a shade or two.

I leapt out of my bed and Traced a nameless sword. There would be no need to use something as powerful as a Noble Phantasm in a place like this; the most that some intrusion could be was a common robber, but I still didn't like the feeling that awoke me. It was something of a tug in my gut, much like the kind of feeling that I got whenever I used a Command Seal, but near my navel instead. I stepped out the door and into the smooth stone hallway. It was equally dark there. I was forced to pull out one of the magical knives I'd learned of from Archer's Unlimited Blade Works. It acted as a light source as well as a wickedly sharp knife, so I could see at least a few feet ahead of me.

The hallways were creepy, but somehow cathartic for my stresses. I jumped at every small noise, and each and every time I cursed myself for being so sensitive to sound. Even though it had been many months since the Grail War, my reflexes were still jumping at every sudden movement.

Eventually I came to the junction that led to the mess hall and the children's dorms. All of a sudden, a tap came from to my right, and I flung both the sword and the knife at whatever was there.

I looked towards the door that now had a pair of steel weapons in it. There was a tall man standing in the doorway, shaded by the shifting night shadows. The only thing I could glean from him were his dark brown eyes. "I heard you've been looking for me," he rumbled in a deep voice. He waved a hand out the door. "Come. We have much to discuss."

* * *

**And that's all he wrote! Rest assured I will be back on schedule for the rest of the summer. With that done, let's get to reviews!**

**Serfius: I know you were only on chapter five when you wrote this, but please refer to the ANs I wrote on the subject. He does have a reason for being as strong as he is. **

**And... actually, that's it. There's a lot of people commenting on how good last chapter was, and I'm really thankful for that! You guys are the best, really. **

**I'll see you guys on Saturday, for real this time. Happy reading!**


	16. Unholy War

**Hello, and welcome back to Remnant of Cursed Paradise! This was about twenty or so minutes late for those of you on the East Coast and eastwards, but at least I got it out soon! I do have one announcement before we start: the poll I'm running on my profile is ending in a week. You don't have to own a FFN profile to vote, so make sure you choose which story I should do next if you haven't already!**

**Since that's out of the way, let's get to the chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Unholy War**

I followed Mr. Dawn as he stepped lightly along the hallway, focused more on his huge form than anything else. I was ready for anything in those two protracted minutes that we walked. Despite there not being any sort of weapon on his form, if he was in the Burial Agency, chances were that Mr. Dawn didn't need one to easily kill me. I kept my hand on the light-shedding knife along the way. It had a dent in it; being plucked from a six-inch wood door with D rank strength did not do any favors to non-Noble Phantasm steel, no matter how rare or enchanted it was.

Finally, thankfully, we reached the end of a hallway and entered a small room. Its ceiling, like the other rooms in Lumen, was made of marble, but everything else was paneled with a smooth, rich brown wood. It was devoid of anything except for a table and three chairs. Mr. Dawn sat at one and invited me to take my seat at another. It was a miracle his chair didn't break, considering the man looked like he was a good two hundred and fifty pounds of what was probably muscle. In the moonlight, his skin seemed almost red, while his hair took on a more ashen shade of brown. His eyes were nothing but serious, a feature that contrasted with the slight smirk on his face.

"So, you've been looking for me," he said again, and it took me a moment to register his voice in the deafening silence of the room. "I'll tell you my concerns first, just to get them out of the way before we move on to the more serious items. First of all, there is indeed a Dead Apostle Ancestor here in Remnant, and judging by the recent influx of Grimm, we're going to need several Magi of your caliber to defeat him."

"There's been an influx of Grimm?" I asked immediately. He nodded.

"Yes, there has indeed. The last census determined the amount of Grimm on Remnant as somewhere around eighteen and a half billion. That was taken four years ago. Now, however, the census reports that an estimated thirty billion Grimm are roaming the planet. To put that into perspective, the Grimm levels have been rising consistently at about ten million Grimm per year until this recent influx, and that number has actually been dropping a bit due to the rise in Huntsman training quality."

"So, for the Grimm to have multiplied so rapidly in the past four years..."

Mr. Dawn nodded when I trailed off. "Either whatever is expanding the Grimm population is becoming more agitated or a Dead Apostle managed to get a hold of them and is creating more for themselves. I wouldn't be surprised if the recent attack on Beacon Academy was the work of whatever Apostle is doing this."

"So who's the Apostle?" I hedged, not content with just that information. "You're a part of the Burial Agency, so you have to have a list of them, right? Is it Nrvnqsr?"

"Nrvnqsr Chaos is indeed one of the possibilities," Mr. Dawn said. He nodded his head towards the moon before continuing. "There are, however, two other possibilities. First, we have Night of Wallachia."

He pulled something from his pocket. I looked it over. It was a sheaf of papers, the first consisting of a picture of a swarthy-looking blond man with a cloak and a few bars that described parameters. I shivered; this guy had the stats of a Lancer, with high Agility and Mana but low Strength and Endurance. The next several pages were lists of encounters with the Apostle. After a few minutes, I lifted my head, confused. "Wait a minute, why do all these things call Night of Wallachia an 'it'? Does it have a definitive gender?"

"That's where things get complicated." I handed the papers back to Mr. Dawn. They were once again stowed in his pockets. "Night of Wallachia is unique in that it cannot be said to currently 'exist'. In reality, it is the corporeal form of the fears and rumors of a community. It is a strange entity that we have never been able to fully pin down, despite all of our efforts. One of our best agents, Merem Solomon, is currently trying to track down Night of Wallachia before it does any more damage to the world." He said the word "trying" like this Merem Solomon was failing miserably at doing so. If that was true, then there was definitely a chance that the entity behind the Grimm influx could be Night.

"The second," he continued, pulling another sheaf of papers out of his other pocket, "is the most dangerous, and the most unlikely of the three. Princess Altrouge Brunestud, the Black Vampire of the Apostles."

My blood ran cold even before I read the papers. Every Magus had heard of the Black Vampire, even those who had no knowledge of other Apostles. Other than Dark Six, Crimson Moon Brunestud, and Arcueid's Archetype: Earth form, Altrouge was widely regarded as the most dangerous humanoid being alive. There was actually a heated debate among the scholars of the Clock Tower on whether or not Primate Murder or Altrouge was classified as the Type-Earth when Arcueid was in her restrained form, or so Rin said.

That was just how dangerous Altrouge was. I'd heard stories of her visiting towns on a whim, then blowing them to ashes when she was unsatisfied with what they had to offer. That kind of power scared even the Queen of the Clock Tower and Zouken Matou, and it chilled me to the core, to be honest. I internally shifted Berserker off my "never ever fight" list and replaced him with Altrouge's black-haired, red-eyed visage. There wasn't a chance in hell I was taking on that kind of mission, no matter what my Distortion told me to do. Some things, namely the body's basic instinct to survive and, you know, not die would override that in an instant. Survival was an instinct that was greatly tamped down by my Distortion, but it hadn't completely abandoned me, and it would most certainly go haywire in a situation like battling a Type.

"Like I said," Mr. Dawn rumbled, his voice startling me from my rampaging thoughts, "she's the most unlikely of the three options. Since nobody's ever been stupid or powerful enough to face her in one-on-one combat, we don't have much of a record on her abilities. There's always the chance that she has the ability to spawn creatures of darkness. If so, either this world and our world have a difference in time flow, or she's not the one causing the influx of Grimm, because the last time she was sighted was in a remote Mongolian village seven months ago."

"But this world doesn't have a different flow of time, does it?" I speculated. "If it did, then your appearances in our world would be even more sporadic as they were here."

Mr. Dawn nodded his head, not bothering to concede the point with words. "As it stands, we've definitely confirmed the identity of an Apostle here by the traces of prana left behind on some Grimm. Our best bet is to prepare for Nrvnqsr, but I'll have Narbareck come out and scout the place herself just in case it's Night." This Narbareck character didn't sound familiar, but from the way he'd said it, Mr. Dawn was clearly his or her subordinate. Maybe the number two or three of the Agency?

"Now, on to another concern of yours. The talented little Air Magus in the dormitory right now."

My eyes narrowed involuntarily at the mention of Tabitha. Let it never be said that Shirou Emiya wasn't a caring person, after all. "What do you mean?" I asked, a little forcefully. My fingers twitched with the urge to Trace a sword. "As far as I'm concerned, you shouldn't be going near her. She's my student, not yours, and while I don't have a lot to teach her, I don't trust anyone that would willingly work so closely with the likes of Kotomine Kirei."

"Kotomine Kirei?" Mr. Dawn asked. He seemed surprised, judging by the widening of his eyes. "You actually managed to find that maniac? He's been given a Crucifixion for the things he's done."

"Crucifixion?" the last time I checked, Kirei wasn't anywhere near to being nailed to a cross, although I would have been much more satisfied with his death if it had been something as slow and torturous as that.

"Yes, it's the Church's variation to what the Magi call a Sealing Designation. It's essentially what it sounds like, with the nails, rough wooden planks and everything. But putting that aside, where in the hell did you meet Kirei? He's been eluding the church for more than a decade, ever since he decided to participate in the Fourth Grail War without the Pope's express permission."

Figures someone that creepy would be an ex-Church member, and one on the run as well? I actually worried a bit for Rin now. Who knows what kind of things that Bishop-turned-Magus did to her...

"He was acting as the referee for the Fifth Grail War," I told him. There was silence, so I took it as an invitation to continue. "He ended up refereeing the War with the Archer Gilgamesh, and Saber and I managed to kill them both before destroying the Grail for good."

One moment of silence. Then two, then five and ten. The seconds passed slowly, only punctuated by the small breaths that Mr. Dawn was taking and the sound of the blood pumping in my ears. he looked at me, wide-eyed, with nothing but utter shocking filling his features." Wha..." he gasped after a minute. "What do you... there was a Fifth War? Only ten years after the Fourth?"

A cold pit gathered in my stomach. Didn't Bazett say she'd been sent by the Magus Association to compete in the War? But... if that was the case, then surely the Church would know about it. They were most closely related to the Clock Tower, after all, and they had lesser but equally distinct connections with the Sea of Estray, both of which were within a few hundred miles of Bazett's native homeland of Ireland. Even the Einzberns and the Tohsakas knew about it, and I'd wager a lot of the money left to me by Kiritsugu that Zouken was the one who discussed the possibility of another War so soon after the Fourth with the other families.

"How did the Church not know about this?" I asked after a minute, completely dumbfounded. "Surely there must have been some sort of indication that it was going on. Bazett Fraga McRemitz went, after all, and she's listed as an emergency Executor, isn't she?"

If anything, Mr. Dawn turned even paler, his skin going ashy in its pallor. "Shirou, the only Fraga member that's ever been a member of the Executors, Emergency Corps. or not, died more than two hundred years ago, and his name certainly wasn't Bazett. You're telling me that Kirei Kotomine managed to execute another Grail War without the knowledge or approval of either the Clock Tower or the Church. Not only that, but he got the three Host Families to play along with his little game as well? I'll admit, we weren't watching Fuyuki all that much since the Second Owner had a history of taking good care of it and another War wasn't due to start for another fifty years, but something like this shouldn't have been able to slip under the radar for so long."

"The Bloodfort Andromeda..." How did they miss the Bloodfort Andromeda? That would have been classified as a national emergency at the very least, if not an international crisis. Having an entire school full of people fainting at the same time is an unheard-of occurrence. "You at least saw the Bounded Field that took down the entirety of Homurahara Academy's student population, right?"

"Wait, that was a Grail War's work?" Mr. Dawn asked, shocked. "We thought that was Zelretch! He was in the area at the time, so we thought it was some sort of prank that just knocked everyone out."

"..." I sighed. "You know, I'm not sure if I should be worried that this isn't the first time I was surprised by the Church's incompetence. Do you guys always keep such a loose eye on things, or is it just the Japanese sector?"

"Never mind that!" Mr. Dawn pressed. He sounded anxious, afraid of something, and if there was something that could give the man in front of me, the person who I could instinctively feel was a laid-back and carefree person, the kind of fear that focuses solely on a singular event, it was probably related to the event itself. But then, what kind of ties could he have to the Grail War? He even admitted to not having known exactly what went on during the Fourth War, and he didn't have any record of there being a Fifth. "Are you sure that the one you participated in was the Fifth War? Not the aftermath of the Fourth?"

"Are you trying to tell me that kind of hell was some sort of aftermath? Some kind of unfortunate consequence?!" I stood, slamming my fist on the table. The sound of steel crashing into wood reverberated against the stone of the room's walls, producing a hollow, bell-like sound that was oddly fitting in the full-mooned night. I forced myself back down, aware of the blades suffusing my muscles and flesh. They retreated back into my inner world, stabbing back into the sun-scorched ground once more. "Look, that was indeed a War. I saw atrocities in that deathmatch that you will never be able to witness. Do not doubt that."

My mind returned to a more reasonable state once Mr. Dawn apologized and brought forward his next words. "Look, we have a problem Shirou, and it isn't one that just blowing up will be able to take care of. There's something else going on, something far worse than just a Dead Apostle Ancestor. If you look at your hand, I think you'll have an idea of what I'm talking about."

My hand? What was he-

No. No, no, no. Oh, fucking hell, no.

A searing red light flickered across my skin settling into a horrifically familiar shape. An arrow-pointed fleur-de-lis adorned the top, pointing upwards towards my knuckles, while a pair of inverted V's draped the bottom half, lined on each side by a single, crimson line. At the very bottom, an elongated diamond stabbed downwards across my wrist. The faintest hint of pain slashed across them. The Command Seals were more than just skin-deep. They were etched into a person's very Magic Circuits, and the more they had, the more control they lorded over their Servant. Now that I had more Circuits than any feasible Magus in my old world, I had an unimaginably powerful set of Command Seals.

But I had Command Seals. Again.

I brought my eyes up to Mr. Dawn's grave face. My hand, my left hand, was shaking uncontrollably. Archer's hand, and the one with the Seals on it. "No..." I managed to breathe, although I couldn't do much more than twitch and flit my eyes around sharply. Not again. Not this hell again.

"Yes." Mr. Dawn's voice, stony and calm, shattered any of my hopes that the whole encounter was just a dream, and I would wake up in the bed next to Tabitha's. "There is a Sixth Holy Grail War coming, Shirou Emiya, and you have been selected as one of the seven Masters to compete in it. I suggest that if you want to save as many lives as you can and assist in bringing down our Apostle, you summon your Servant quickly."

I stood, ready to storm out of the room and beat my head against the wall for several hours, when a surge of unmistakable prana rent the air. Its levels were high, higher than my current output, and I realized instantly that a Servant had been summoned.

That was just about when all hell broke loose.

* * *

Tabitha cracked her eyes open. She was tired, true, but a quick burst of unnoticeable energy switched her fatigue with newfound stamina. She slipped out of her bed the moment Jaune closed the door behind him. Her feet tensed, ready to fall back again just in case he came back. Judging by the sword and dagger he held in his hands, though, she didn't think that he would be for a while.

Tabitha was often an insomniac sleeper, preferring to roam the empty orphanage and surrounding forest while Martin and the Fathers were sound asleep. She loved her brother, she really did, but sometimes his overbearing presence and bossy personality got on her nerves just the teensiest, tiniest little bit.

She slipped one of Jaune's stray knives out of her nightgown as she walked. Leftovers from Jaune's lessons were common, since he only actively de-Traced his swords when he was in battle and they had the chance to be used against him. This particular dagger, a copy of the one she'd seen in his hand as he stepped out, had a beautiful gold blade with delicate filigree and an ornately jeweled handle. It gave off a dazzling, yet somehow soft, light. The intensity varied with how fast she was moving, but at such a slow pace, there was barely anything to see by, even with the blue-white moonlight filtering in through the stained-glass of the windows.

Progress through the halls was surprisingly quick, considering how uneven the tiled floors were. Even though she knew the hallways by heart, they still posed a danger of tripping unsuspecting victims once or twice. She slid along, darting through hallways and rooms with the grace of a practiced sneak. It only took a few minutes to pass unseen from the dormitory to the front door. She pushed the heavy oak doors open with a bit of Reinforcement, just enough to crack them. When Jaune had explained to her the dangers of Reinforcing her body with Aura, she had been hesitant to use it, but she admired the results every time she was forced to.

It was even easier to sneak from the door to the shed in the woods nearby. It lay utterly unused after one of the gardeners quit one day when she was nine. The others soon followed, and in the four years that followed, the carefully cultivated trees had begun to grow just a bit wilder. Since then, she and Martin had removed all of the gardening tools from the tiny shed and replaced them with stray stuffed animals. There was a bottle of pills hidden in one corner. She snatched it up and swallowed one down the moment she darted inside. Her cough had been flaring up recently, and although it was probably just a cold, one could never be too sure.

Of the many things that cluttered the shed, she focused on one thing in particular. A giant chalk circle was laid bare on the smooth wood floor of the shed, not a single word or shape obscured. She had seen it in one of Jaune's journals, and she'd decided to draw it and activate it just out of curiosity. Jaune had told her to never try something new without a Magus being around, but if he'd put it in one of the journals he'd lent her, then he was planning to teach it to her at some point, right?

The four colored edges of the eight-pointed star seemed to almost drink in the sparse light provided by the knife. The four hollow edges, in contrast, dispersed it, flaring into a miniscule glow that nonetheless lit the windowless room. Unlike the Magic Circles she had come to believe were legend, this one was asymmetrical and filled with random words and phrases that, after a bit of digging, she realized were there to help the energies flow better and connect to whatever strange power it was supposed to invoke.

She slashed her palm with the knife, wincing in pain as it tore flesh easily. Blood dripped into the circle, but despite the loose chalk, it didn't smudge a bit. Instead, the circle began to glow with crystal blue light as she poured her prana into its lines. Tabitha threw the knife aside, letting it thud cleanly into the wall while she spoke. Her small voice, masking a sort of eager expectation under its calm, filled the shed.

_"Let silver and steel be the essence._

_Let stone and the Archduke of Contracts be the foundation._

_The ancestor shall be my great master, Arc._

_I hereby propose,_

_My will shall create thy body,_

_And thy sword shall create my fate._

_Abiding by the summons of this Holy Grail,_

_If thou doth accede to this will and reason, answer my callings._

_I hereby swear,_

_I shall be all that is good in this eternal world_

_And shall be the disposer of all evil in this eternal world._

_Thou, clad in the Great Trinity,_

_Come forth from my circle of restraint._

_Guardian of the Heavenly Scales!"_

With that, the incantation was complete. A wind had begun to pick up in the room, and Tabitha could feel the slight brush of storming power tug across her skin like tingles of electricity. The circle was glowing with an incredible light, each and every line outlined in painfully bright white. Tabitha turned away, unable to watch anymore.

The growing funnel of wind rushed outwards, pressing everything she owned- her stuffed animals, her old stamps from all the cities she'd visited with Lumen and Jaune, even the huge chunk of iron she'd found embedded in a tree once that took her, Martin and Terrence combined to lift- flat against the flimsy walls. Most blew completely through the wood, scattering on the emerald grass outside. Despite all the action, there was no sound.

Suddenly everything went still, and all she could feel was the constant pull on her soul. It wasn't enough to be too detrimental to her reserves, but if it didn't stop in five minutes or less she'd have to start funneling part of the Aura that composed Jaune's knife into the spell, and Jaune had told her to never, ever mix the two energy sources unless it was a matter of life and death.

That was the first rule he made sure she understood. To train as a Huntsman was to walk with death, and it was a rule she readily accepted.

Finally, the flow of energy slowed. It didn't stop, not completely, but it trickled down to a rate that she could regenerate in just a few hours. Everything was still silent. The light had faded, but now there was significantly more light in the shed, courtesy of the dozens of small holes that now pockmarked it. That feeling of electricity still tickled at her skin now and then, like a spark that danced around her form, or a little fairy that tickled her bare wood smelled faintly burnt, like it had been scorched by the intensity of the prana that she had been pushing through the circle.

Then, the sound of light, easy breathing erupted behind her, almost unnoticeable aside from the buzz that signalled a night's silence. She whirled, grasping for the dagger that had been shoved hilt-deep in the wood by the blast from the circle.

A man was standing in her circle, looking content. His hair was a deep color that she couldn't make out in the shadow that was hiding it, but she could see the low-held ponytail that it was tied into. His face was angular and clever. A full-length bodysuit, azure in color and decorated with a dozen steel lines, covered every inch of skin except for his hands, which were the same peach color as his cheeks. He had two steel shoulder pads (pauldrons, she vaguely remembered Jaune calling them) that accentuated the slope of his shoulder and made him seem larger than he probably was. His eyes, two orbs the color of the deep wine that the priests and nuns took communion from, watched her intently. In his hands, being tossed back and forth casually like it wasn't a deadly thing, was a familiar, blood-red lance that had three barbs lining the spearhead. When he spoke, his white teeth glinted at her happily.

"Upon your summoning," he began in a light and cheery voice, "I have come forth. I am Servant Lancer. I ask of you, are you my Master?"

Tabitha tried to speak, but the surreality of the situation stole the words right from her mouth. She instinctively turned her body, ready to bat aside an attack from that hauntingly familiar spear, when the walls exploded.

* * *

I moved as soon as the walls around the Servant fell down. No, not the Servant- I couldn't call him just a Servant when we'd met before. He wasn't just a Servant anymore. He was an enemy.

I could hear Tabitha's scream emanate from the wreckage. She immediately became my priority, and I plucked three strands of hair from my head. Ilya's Hair Familiars were a complex Magecraft, one that I normally wouldn't be able to use, but by shaping the elongated red hairs to their sword forms they became as malleable as clay in my hands. Two of them rose and wrapped around Tabitha, carrying her to safety while I shot the third at Lancer- because what other class could he have fit into?

Lancer spun to the side and stabbed forward, Gae Bolg rippling through air to tear at my shirt. I Reinforced to the limit and stepped back before summoning Kanshou and Bakuya. They didn't have as powerful Anti-Servant properties as some of my swords, but in a battle with Lancer I kind of wanted to recreate the first experience I had with the Grail War for Tabitha: one of me and Lancer battling it out while she realized the gravity of the situation. It helped me realize just how much mortal danger I was in, after all.

"Yo," Lancer greeted. "If it isn't Emiya. Man, I didn't think I'd get to see you for a long while. How many Grail Wars has it been, and how the hell did you get into the Throne without me knowing? The Grail must be giving me some wrong information here, because it says that it's still in Japan, but we're definitely not in Japan. Come to think of it, why do I remember you? You're a little fuzzy, but I'll be damned if I forgot you after that War."

"It's been a while, Lancer," I responded. I tightened my grip on Kanshou and threw Bakuya at him. He dodged the spinning black disc easily and returned to an expectant pose. "It hasn't been any Grail Wars. Welcome to the Sixth. And what makes you think I'm a Servant?" I held up the hand with my Command Seals. They still glowed faintly in the soft moonlight, enough so that nobody would be able to mistake them for a simple tattoo. "Surprise."

"Ha!" Lancer suddenly twisted his torso a good 180 degrees to dodge the blurry red and black bullet that shot towards him. Ruby hit the ground and immediately spun Crescent Rose around to bear. Blake and Ren took their time, walking out the front door. Both of them had their weapons out, but neither looked like they were going to attack. That could all change in a moment, though, and Lancer was still an enemy Servant. If he'd somehow infiltrated the premises without Mr. Dawn knowing and cornered Tabitha... if she was a Master this time...

"Be careful," I warned my team. "He has the original Gae Bolg. If he hits you with that, it's over, no questions asked. Interrupt him before-"

"You talk too much, Emiya!" Lancer blasted forward again, leaving me with just enough time to raise the Married Blades in a makeshift shield. Gae Bolg's point didn't penetrate, but the force of the thrust slid me back a few feet. I didn't match up to him with sheer Reinforcement and a simple Trace On. My Strength stat was C at the most when I Reinforced like that, and Lancer's Strength was a B at standard. If he could use Runes like before...

"Ansuz!" he shouted, and my eyes flicked downward to catch Gae Bolg's butt etching a rune into the dirt. The ground beneath me glowed with heated light, and I jumped back just in time to dodge a searing blast of flames that erupted from the ground. I threw Bakuya a second time, and this time the Yin sword burst into flames, curving an arc of fiery death towards Lancer's neck. It was just a distraction to him, a projectile that was easily batted out of the air...

...But that was all I meant it to be.

The moment I released it from my grip two copies of Durandal flickered to life in my hands. Each one had the miracles necessary to at least deflect, if not outright block, three uses of Gae Bolg, so Lancer's big advantage was stopped in its tracks. On the off chance that Gae Bolg managed to pierce through the miraculous swords, then I still had other, more... consequential shields.

"You've gotten better, Emiya." Lancer whirled his spear in the air like a crimson baton, twirling it effortlessly from side to side. "You've managed to dodge or block most of my normal attacks, but tell me... can you dodge the spear that killed you twice before?!"

Lancer took that position I remember all so well. He didn't even have to say the words like I did; Gae Bolg rippled with light at a mere thought of his. "Gae..."

"Miracle," I whispered, activating one of the stores of prana inside of Durandal. The sword streamed white light off its blade, like a holy firework.

"Bolg!"

"Stop!" Tabitha spoke, and it very nearly distracted me from blocking Lancer's "unblockable blow". Durandal and Gae Bolg clashed, the causality-reversal effect duplicated and negated by my used miracle. The red blade managed to catch me in the collarbone instead, tearing my skin and a thin layer of flesh, but I fell back and arched into a handstand before Lancer could bury it into bone. Avalon's golden prana went to work negating the curse of Gae Bolg's spearhead, but it would take time, and all the while the bloody cut on my left side leaked a hazy ruby light.

Blake waited until right after the light from Gae Bolg's signature attack had faded to move. She darted forward like a jungle cat, stabbing and slashing with unerring accuracy. Too bad for her, however, that Lancer had A+ Agility. He was easily able to dodge her attacks, and even went so far as batting her weapon aside a few times to show her just how fruitless her efforts really were.

Then Ruby was behind him, slashing at Lancer's legs with Crescent Rose, and Ren was aiming an Aura-infused kick at his forehead. He dodged both, jumping into a curled, spinning ball, but that gave Blake and I the opportunity to move forward and send him tumbling through the air. He landed a few feet away, on his feet but clearly disoriented. I pulled a half-dozen Noble Phantasms from Unlimited Blade Works and held them at the ready behind my back.

"Let's stop for now, Lancer." He froze, even more confused now. "We'd cause unnecessary death right now," I continued, de-Tracing the swords behind me one by one. In response he relaxed into a more friendly slouch. He was still ready to fight, and his Battle Continuation would ensure that he moved right back as if he hadn't stopped at all, but at least now he looked like he would listen to my proposal. "Right now, you and I need to get oriented on the War. I need to explain a few things to your Master as well."

I glared at Tabitha, who shrunk further into the wreckage she was digging herself out of. "Yes, I think I need to talk about a lot with her."

* * *

"What were you thinking?!" I snapped as soon as we had all relocated to the mess hall. A passing priest on his rounds kindly lit the candles for our strange group, along with greeting Lancer and welcoming him into the hall. The experience seemed to leave a bad taste in his mouth, and it took me a few minutes to remember that he was the child of a God, Lugh- of course meeting the follower of a monotheistic religion would disagree with him.

Tabitha already looked sullen and depressed, but when I turned my voice at her again she flinched and dragged her eyes to the table. We were all seated around one of my hastily Traced creations, a simple kotatsu with the heated blanket removed. I flexed my fingers. "I... I was looking through one of your journals and I found a circle that looked interesting..."

"Yes, I can tell," I replied. "And you go and try to activate it even though I told you not to try anything dangerous unless I was around?!"

Tabitha was trembling, and even though I wanted to impress upon her what exactly she'd done, I still had to remember that she was just a kid. "Here, give me your right hand." She did so.

I inspected the Command Seals on her hand. They were remarkably similar to Bazett's, except that instead of the two Fragarach blades jutting out from an orb, A pair of red, curved teeth extruded from a stylized, swooping square. I frowned. "Well, they're certainly Cu Chulainn's alright. Fitting, that the Master of a mutt would have teeth for Seals."

"Hey!" Lancer narrowed his eyes at my jab. We held the glowers for a few seconds before I had to turn away, grinning just a little bit. Likewise, he chuckled. He really would have been a good ally to have in the Fifth War, if Kirei hadn't gotten to him before the whole shebang had even started.

I sighed as I looked at Tabitha's shaking hand. "You know," I told her, leaning down to get to eye level with her, "you're a lot like me when I was a kid. I'd worry my father to death all the time when I looked through his journals and tried to do some of the family Magecraft. I failed at it, of course, but now I kind of regret putting him through this kind of stuff."

She looked at me hopefully, her brown eyes glistening with a pair of unshed tears. "Did... did I do something right, at least?" she asked.

"You did quite the right thing, considering you went behind my back and did something that bordered on the edges of the impossible." She winced again, but this time it wasn't as pained as before. "At least you got Lancer. I wouldn't have been quite so lucky if you summoned someone like a Berserker."

"Berserker? Lancer?" Blake spoke up for the first time since her altercation with Lancer. Her eyes still followed his every move warily, and I could see her hand straying towards Gambol Shroud whenever he got too close to me or Tabitha. "Jaune, what are you talking about? You mentioned a Berserker back at Beacon. You said he was stronger than Ozpin."

"Lancer, how do you measure up in terms of the people in this room?" I asked him.

He smirked. "Aside from you?" At my deadpan gaze, his grin faded a little and he turned towards my team. "Those two have E rank Agility," he said, pointing towards Blake and Ruby. "And the guy with the pink stripe has E rank Endurance. All three of them are channeling some sort of energy that I can't pin down. On a Servant's scale, E is equivalent to about ten times the average human's physical ability. In comparison, my Endurance is C rank, three times yours, and my Agility is A+, about ten times Little Red Riding Hood's over there."

"Bullshit," all three of my team members said at once.

Lancer vanished. He reappeared across the room, then in less time it took for me to blink, he was in three more spots around the room and back across from me. Everyone froze.

"Come on, it's not like you can't copy me, Faker?" he asked. "When you and the blonde bastard started fighting, it ripped open all kinds of doors. Gilgamesh throwing around that kind of power? Yeah, even us in the Throne could feel it. Most of us felt everything in that battle, man, and I gotta say, you did a damn good job in kicking the shit out of the King of Heroes."

"Aw, so all my best swords are good for nothing against the Heroes?" I complained, feeling just a little bit cheated that my best weapons and greatest secrets were worth absolutely nothing in the face of the strongest warriors in all of space and time.

"Now, I wouldn't say that," Lancer reasoned. He leaned against the nearby wall and twirled Gae Bolg through his fingers. "When I say we could see it, I didn't mean we could see what was happening. Mostly it was just flashes of light and power that would take down a minor Servant in an instant and clashing swords. Hell, most of the stuff exploded so fast even I couldn't get a good look at it."

"Servants? Throne? What the he- what are you talking about?!" Blake snapped in a sharp tone. She glanced towards Tabitha, obviously aware of the girl looking inquisitive as well. Lancer smirked.

"And you have a few friends involved in this now, too. You're too much like you were at the Fifth War. Granted, this was probably unexpected for you, but you better summon your Servant soon."

"This is gonna take a bit of explaining, isn't it?" I asked, staring Blake deep in the eyes. They were unflinching and determined to squeeze whatever information they could out of me.

"Yes." Her voice was short and cold, colder than I remembered it ever being. I frowned at her tone, but I probably deserved it for not being so forthright with her in the first place. This was like yesterday morning all over again.

"Alright, so here's how it goes down..." With that, I began to explain the Holy Grail War to my team.

* * *

**And there's the end! Honestly, it took a few tries for me to get this chapter right, and even before posting this I edited a few of the scenes multiple times. There's just something... off about it. If I figure out what it is I'll fix it and this comment will cease to exist.**

**Anyway, onto reviews!**

**Vainety: Uh... nope. It's stated in both anime and the VN that Shirou is absolutely terrible at Thaumaturgy, He's so bad that it took him a while to get a complete grasp of Structural Analysis, something that most Magi find ridiculously easy, and it took him way longer to combine that with Projection to create Tracing. He couldn't Structurally Grasp things in one go at the very beginning; like everyone else, he had to learn, and he had a very small learning curve to help him.**

**Srey: Sorry you don't like the story, man. If it helps, I've been told that many of the inconsistencies I had writing in the beginning have been cleared up by now, but sorry again.**

**Vandenbz: Thanks for the typo list. I'll get on it immediately.**

**That seems to be it for now. Thanks you, everyone, for your continued support through the duration of this story! See you next time, and happy reading!**


	17. Strategy Meeting

**Welcome back to a new chapter of Remnant of Cursed Paradise! I have nothing to say in this note, so let's get right on to the story!**

* * *

**Chapter 17: Strategy Meeting**

"The Holy Grail War," I began, looking around for any signs of recognition. That would have been really, really bad. "I'm assuming that none of you besides Lancer know about it?"

Everyone nodded. "Jaune, whatever you're talking about, it can't be a war. We haven't had a war with another kingdom in hundreds of years, not since Aurea tried to take over Atlas and were utterly crushed."

"I beg to differ," Lancer observed quietly. Blake bristled, but he held up a hand. "Let Emiya explain. He'll enlighten you."

"I suppose you can't really call the Grail War a full-fledged war at first glance," I admitted. "In theory, it's seven people and temporarily bonded spirits classified as Servants duking it out in a chosen place. In reality, it's much more gruesome."

"How bad are we talking?" Ren asked.

I sat back and thought about it. While the death toll had numbered in the hundreds during the Fourth War and more than three dozen people had died in the Fifth, not including the Masters themselves, that had been centralized in a populated location. There weren't that many Magi in this one area, or even this continent, so the War was likely to be fought at a chosen place once all the Masters had summoned their Servants and decided on a central location.

"Judging by the area it's encompassing this time, and the possibility of some Masters asking their Servants to consume souls to lessen the burden on their own, probably anywhere from zero to a hundred people will either die or be rendered comatose before this War ends."

"What are the Servants, anyway?" Ruby asked. "And what did you mean, consume souls? Isn't that impossible?"

"Normally, but not for a Servant. A Servant is the spirit of a renowned hero pulled from an afterlife called the Throne of Heroes," Lancer explained. I left it to him, considering he knew a lot more than I did about Servants. "Basically, if you've done enough to warrant being remembered in a legend, you'll be removed from the normal cycle of reincarnation and placed in the Throne of Heroes. After that, you can be summoned as a familiar. Usually, though, you humans can't handle the strain of giving people like us so much prana, and they'd die, so a couple hundred years back, a few families decided to devise the best way to summon Servants and grant a wish at the same time. They created a powerful focus for prana that they called the Holy Grail, thus the Holy Grail War. The prana stored in the Grail supplies us for most of our battles, with the rest being given by the Masters to make a barely noticeable difference. Since we're legends, we'll get a boost based on where we are and how close we are to our homeland, but other than that there aren't any deciding factors on battles other than the Servant's parameters and their skill with their weapon."

Lancer blanched for a moment when he considered the second part of Ruby's question. "As for consuming souls, it's not that hard," he admitted. "We just rip the soul out of whatever unfortunate victim we find and leach the energy inside it before putting it back... usually." He shivered. "How many times I came across Caster's victims... poor bastards."

"Most Servants don't do that," I added at the horrified looks on everyone's faces. "Usually, the summoner has enough energy to top the Servant off and have him running at full capacity. It's the immoral people that allow their Servants to prey on innocents, or rather, force them to do so. Nearly every Servant I've met would be appalled at the mere thought of sacrificing innocent life just to power themselves up."

"And what's this prana?" Blake asked, her brow raised.

"It's what they're powered on," I hastily interjected. Lancer fell silent, his mouth half-open, but I shot him a warning look. "I never really found out where it comes from, but apparently everyone has some of it."

"Okay..." Ruby trailed off, apparently unsure of what to think of next. With a huff, she spun to face Lancer. "Wait, how'd you do that super-speed thing? Is that some sort of Semblance or something?"

"Semblance?" Lancer gave me an odd look, but I waved it off. "I don't know what the hell a Semblance is, but that was just pure speed and prana, Red. I guess the kid can explain to you about stats, because Servants don't usually know those kinds of things unless a Master explains it to them."

I flipped out the Codex I'd been carrying on me for a long time now and opened it to the tenth page, the other nine being filled up by data on my team and I.

I Analyzed Lancer thoroughly, from his history to the barely-visible stat bar I could see coming to life under his bust in the book. The data in my head wrote itself over the cream-colored page. Lancer's full portrait, followed by lines and lines of descriptive traits, flowed onto the paper like water. In seconds, Lancer's full history and ability set was copied onto my pages.

"The Servants have physical parameters that are generally divided into statistics, or stats for short," I explained. "There are five standard rankings: E for ten times human ability, D for twenty times, and so on up to A rank, which is fifty times human limits. Now, Aura can do things that boosts the human limits out of the water, but let's focus on a standard, happily living civilian's limits."

"But Lancer said that his Agility rank was A+," Ren said. "Are there extras to the parameters?"

"Very good, Ren," I said approvingly. "A plus denotes a multiplication of the ability. Using Lancer as an example, his A+ stat is an A stat multiplied by two, rendering his speed a hundred times that of a normal human. A minus, on the other hand, indicates that the stat is higher than the one below it, but not quite high enough to qualify for the next rank. A C-, for example, is distinctively higher than a D, but not as high as a C."

"So what kind of powers do you have, Lancer?" Tabitha asked.

Lancer grinned a grin that made me note to never leave him and Tabitha in the same room. They'd blow it up in a minute, tops. "Well, let's see... you already know about Gae Bolg. I have Battle Continuation, which allows me to continue a battle immediately no matter how long it's been since the first fight. I have C rank Magic Resistance, so anything three lines and down are ineffective against me. After that, I can use Runes with a bit of skill, especially a set of Runes that ups the ranking of Gae Bolg to A for a short time. I also have the Divinity skill, which stands at B rank."

"Divinity? What does that measure?"

Lancer smirked. "well, it means exactly what it says. My old man's the sun god, Lugh. I never really liked him, though. Most demigods don't."

Tabitha gaped in shock, while Blake's eyes narrowed and Ren and Ruby leaned back. "Gods don't exist," she said shortly. "If they did, they'd do something to stop the tensions between humanity and the White Fang, or at least wipe out the Grimm so that we could live parts of our lives in peace."

"Gods don't do shit for anyone unless they're being bribed or blackmailed into doing it," Lancer replied. Seeing her falter in her glare, he continued. "You've gotta understand that gods don't think at the same level as us lowly mortals. Since they literally have all the time in the world and power that would stand against even a dragon, they don't really care for beings that die after fifty or so years. Instead they consolidate their power in us and make us fear them. Being a demigod, though, has its perks. We can kick gods' asses if the conditions are right, and we might get a bit of humility in there too."

Blake still looked disbelieving. "But don't the gods have some sort of duty?" she asked skeptically. Lancer laughed.

"Gods? Have a sense of duty? You're kidding me!" he wheezed. "You people assume that just because someone has power, it means that they're going to use it for good. You're dead wrong in that case. Gods don't give the first sh- sorry, Emiya. Gods don't care at all what the mortals say, so long as they get what they want. They're giant godly brats, the lot of them."

"Didn't you do the horizontal tango with a goddess?" I asked in amusement. While the euphemism was there to satisfy my urge to shelter Tabitha, Cu Chullain really did get romantically involved with Scathach in the Land of Shadows. It was the kind of thing that you had to pore over for several hours to comprehend. The fact that this guy managed to get laid...

"Yeah, and she was a bitch most of the time, too," he muttered, only stopping his short-lived rant about the Shadow Goddess when I placed my hands over Tabitha's ears and glared at him. He sighed. "I got a Master that's thirteen years old. I can't even swear in front of her? Gods, I hate my Luck..."

"You're one to talk," I grumbled. "I've got E right now, and a month ago it was E-."

"That's rough, buddy."

The two of us grinned, and I realized that Lancer was indeed the kind of person that I'd invite over for dinner on a regular basis. I guess my earlier estimate on his character was correct. Maybe having him as a comrade wouldn't be as much of a detriment as a boon after all. I wonder, if I can summon a Servant, if it will be her...

"So if there are seven Servants," Blake asked with a slow question in her voice, "then do the others have codenames as well? Lancer's obviously not your real name, sir, and this Berserker that you two keep describing doesn't sound like a real name either."

"Good ear, Blake," I said seriously. She merely folded her hands and nodded once. "The Servants are spirits, and spirits need a container to interact with the physical world. These containers are known as Class Containers. Each one has a specific base parameter set that varies from Class to Class and optimizes the Servant fitted into that Class Container to their Class. The seven Classes are as follows: Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Berserker, Caster, and Assassin. Saber most often wields a sword and is considered the most balanced of the classes. It's the class that most people try for when they summon their Servants. Archer, as the name suggests, uses a bow and has increased autonomy from their Master's commands. Actually, the bow I use during combat classes is one that I Traced from the Fifth War's Archer. Lancer, as you can probably guess from Gae Bolg, uses a spear." Lancer twirled the lance absently. "They're also the most agile of the classes. Rider is most comfortable with a vehicle like a chariot or a motorcycle, though their classic depiction is of riding a horse. They usually have the most powerful weapons. Casters are people who have incredible powers. They're able to set up a unique barrier called a Territory that increases their stats and allows them to cast extremely powerful feats of kinesis, bordering on magic. The Assassins don't fight very well one-on-one, so they go behind the other Servants' backs and kill in silence. They have the ability to erase their presence from another person's mind, and only Servants can sense them. Berserkers, though... Berserkers are, on paper, a horrible choice, but in practice they're the strongest Class of the lot. A Berserker is a Servant that, at one point in their original lives, went insane and destroyed everything in sight. Thus, with a Command Mantra, their Masters can remove their sanity in exchange for an monstrous boost to their power."

"Why would that be a good choice?" Blake asked. "Wouldn't removing the ability to reason be a liability? If the Masters are in danger since they feed their Servants with pr-prana, then it would be a bad idea to go out on the battlefield and command their Berserker in open daylight." She stuttered on the unfamiliar word.

"Nightlight," I corrected absently. "Grail Wars are typically only fought at night to retain secrecy. But if you think about, the Master doesn't really need to fear anything while the Berserker is on the battlefield. Just imagine having a regular Servant, say a Lancer like he is, then removing their ability to think and doubling all of their stats. He would be A+++, about two hundred times the regular human speed. Lancer's already one of the more outstanding Servants in the war, having a Divinity rank of B and an A+ Agility ranking, but making him a Berserker would make him literally untouchable. His Master would be just as unreachable, because he could move from enemy to enemy faster than they could advance or attack. Imagine someone with a Strength ranking of A becoming a-"

"Wait, I remember you!" Ruby exclaimed suddenly, snapping her finger out at Lancer. He blinked, then settled back, a curious look in his eyes. "You're one of the people in that painting that Jaune did, right? It was you and the little girl with the white hair and the tall girl with the big boobs!"

Ren clapped his hands over Ruby's mouth before she could say anything else, apparently used to these kinds of outbursts from his experience with Nora. Lancer gazed at me interestedly. "I didn't peg you as a painter, Emiya. You're a swordsman, not an artist."

I shrugged. "I have to do something with my spare time other than training," I reasoned. "Besides, the coordination I learn helps with my swordsmanship and steadying my hands are good for keeping concentration and my wrist movements."

The banter continued for a few minutes, with Lancer poking jabs at Blake, Tabitha and I while we defended ourselves. Blake's shoulders relaxed just a little bit throughout the process, but she still held herself as tense as a cat about to strike.

"So what about the Holy Grail?" she asked. "What does it do?"

"The Holy Grail is supposed to be able to grant any wish that you have, from wanting to be immortal to asking for a fried fish. It gathers an ungodly amount of power from whatever pocket dimension it holds itself in while the sixty years from the previous War pass. Then, it sustains the Servants, who act as energy gatherers for the Grail, feeding on their Masters and the surrounding environment. whenever a Servant dies, it's returned to the Lesser Grail, which is a human vessel designed to ferry the spirits of the Servants to the Greater Grail, the object that actually grants the wish. All the extra power that the Servants collect in their time in reality is gathered as well, and the Grail uses that extra power, along with the converted Spirits' souls, to grant your wish. I wouldn't even try going for it, though."

"Why not?" I could see the look of excitement in Tabitha's eyes. Whatever illness she had was fatal if she didn't get the right medicine for it in time, and she'd had it for most of her life. Along with a child's natural desire to loaf around, it had left her body woefully unfit to carry the burden of her disease without medication. If she had a wish, there was no doubt in my mind that she'd use it to rid herself of that disease.

"It's cursed," I told her. Beside me, Lancer froze. Did he not know? "During the Third Grail War, the Einzbern tried summoning something other than a Servant... they tried for a god, and failed miserably. They got a powerful but inept half-deity called Angra Mainyu, the reincarnation of all things evil in the world. It somehow managed to last until the end of the Third Grail War, where it was killed by the Lancer of the time. Its spirit corrupted the Grail with a sludge that contained All the World's Evils in it. ever since, nobody's been able to get a wish without being cursed to oblivion or consumed by the sludge."

"So you got..."

"I told you once that I won a war, Tabitha," I told her kindly, forcing myself to remember the atrocities in All the World's Evils without breaking face. I rolled up the sleeve of my nightshirt, revealing a pair of burns in the shape of a V on my arm. "I didn't say I got away unscathed, or that I got my wish granted."

The burn mark seem to twist and morph as I held it up to the light, becoming more of an agonized face. Ruby clapped her hands to her mouth at the sight of the screaming faces shimmering in the mottled skin of the scar. They would be there until my death, marking the end of my existence, much like they did to Kiritsugu. Until then, though, I swore to Saber and Archer that I'd keep fighting for my ideals, and that I'd make Archer not regret being a part of me... or me being a part of him. We were the same person, after.

"This is a reminder, of the battles I fought with Saber and Rin alongside me as well as the price I paid to continue fighting for my ideals." I glared Lancer in the eye. He responded in kind. "Will you help us, Setanta?"

He smirked. "It's been a while since someone's used my real name. Well, the final decision's up to my little Master, but if she says yes then we're going to crush that Grail into tiny pieces. I only ended up here because I felt your presence around here and I wanted to fight you again before you ascended to the level of a Servant. I have no need of a wish, especially not a wish that's cursed with some sort of demon god."

He turned his gaze to Tabitha, who stared forward resolutely. She only spared a single glance at the Command Seals on her hand. "Lancer, we're going to destroy the Grail."

A single tooth, sharp and smoothly curved, flared with red light and vanished. A miasma of power settled around Lancer. "Your will be done, Master," he said with a ferocious grin.

* * *

It was early in the morning by the time Lancer and I were finished explaining every nuance we could think of about the Grail War to Tabitha and my team, a bit of editing included of course. When Lancer asked me why I was going by Jaune when everyone had gone to sleep, I'd just shrugged, and that was that. That was what I liked about Lancer: he didn't ask too many questions, and he was smart enough to figure things out without endangering others to get answers.

My eyes flickered to his glinting canines, and my mind flashed back to Tabitha's Command Seals. I sent the little girl off to bed with a bit of light hypnosis, just to make sure she got her rest, while Blake opted to drag an exhausted Ruby up with her. Ren was already asleep on the table, and neither the blue-haired Servant nor I had the heart to move him when he was resting so peacefully.

Currently, Lancer and I were standing on one of the hills outside next to the airship port, watching the east for a hint of the sunrise. Every few minutes, he would twirl Gae Bolg in a slow, deliberate circle as we talked.

"So who are you gonna try for this time?" he asked me, watching me rub at the Command Seals. They felt bare and made me think of Saber again. Would I be able to summon her again, and if so, would she remember me? Lancer certainly did, but after flipping through the Codex I realized that due to his Battle Continuation, we never ended the battle that started with the poster tube, and his knowledge had been reset to the point just after I'd batted Gae Bolg away from my heart a second time. "I vaguely remember something about a blonde Saber girl. She was tiny, and had an invisible sword, right? You gonna go for her again?"

"Yeah..." I trailed off as Saber's face appeared in my mind, crisp and clear as the last time I'd seen it: blood streaking the left side of her face, but a face of utter peace and content as she undid her hair and confessed to me. Like I didn't already know.

"You were really into her, weren't you?" he asked. When I nodded again, his teasing smile vanished. "Love, huh? It's been a while since I felt love. I thought that when Bazett summoned me I'd get a second shot at it, but after Scatty I don't know if I'll ever love someone like I did her. Maybe I should get myself a girl here, after the War's over. Assuming we win and my little Master can bind my soul to hers as a familiar, of course."

I hadn't really thought about it, but after the War, what would Saber and I have done? If the Grail weren't corrupted, I think I would have asked for her to have a second chance at life once she finished what she started in her Britain. I didn't have a wish, and I didn't want to end up immortal like Archer, unable to save all those people but only saving who was convenient for the good of the many. Maybe I would be able to live a happy life, living at Saber's side. Would that really be a possibility, with my Luck?

"Hey, Lancer?"

"Hmm?"

"How do you remember me? I thought the Servants were just copies made from the original in the Throne."

"We are," Lancer confirmed. "Even now, I don't completely understand it, but when we die... it's kind of like some of the data gets sent back. It's weird, because you can remember little chunks or blurry bits, but most of it is a blank. I'll bet one of the Servants from the Fourth War managed to fight their way back to the Fifth. A lot of people were unnervingly familiar with that bastard of a King of Heroes. Your Saber in particular seemed to hold a grudge against him."

"Speaking of that, who do you think'll be summoned in this war? You think it's going to be the same people as the last one?"

He put his hand to his chin in thought, and for a moment he looked remarkably like Kiritsugu did whenever he was thinking too hard about something. I guess they were similar, in some respects. Both of them had a passion for getting the job done, and despite Lancer's rampant emotions, he could be a stone-hearted killer just like my father. "It's entirely possible," he mused. "There's no chance that we'll get everyone from the last time, but if you have the catalyst to summon that Saber girl again and there's enough luck on the Masters' sides, then at least Archer, Rider, Berserker and Caster could be the same. I don't know about Assassin, since Hassan-I-Sabbah is the only catalyst required to summon one of nineteen Assassins."

"Archer's out," I said immediately. "The only reason he was summoned was because he was a Counter Guardian. It's not going to happen again. Gilgamesh, as you know, is already dead."

"Hmm, so we have at least two unknowns then. Probably more. Kid, I can do it, but I've never been one for strategy; I just prefer to charge in and see where my skills and my Luck take me. If we're gonna have any hope of winning this War, however, we're gonna need some. Can you take on a Servant right now?"

I considered the question. "Possibly, but I'd have to Trace Noble Phantasms to do it, and even with this body's incredible output, I still don't have half the energy that a Servant does. If we ever get into a fight with someone like Berserker, you'd better hope that he doesn't have twelve lives, because I don't have enough prana or the stats to pull something like that off by myself."

"Twelve lives?" Lancer gaped. "I knew the guy was hard to kill, but that's some broken bullshit. How'd you kill him the first time- well, the first twelve times?"

"I didn't," I admitted. "I took out maybe two or three of his lives while Rin had him held down with some of her strongest jewels. Tracing Noble Phantasms is useful, but it's draining, so after killing him twice with Caliburn I left the rest of the... nine lives to Saber. Her Noble Phantasm isn't pretty."

"I can believe that," Lancer agreed. "From what I remember of her, she was a master swordsman. Who was she really? Some legendary knight? Joan of Arc, maybe?"

"King Arthur."

For a few seconds, I thought that Lancer had disappeared, because any and all noise from his form ceased. I glanced over; he was gaping, his face pale and his jaw working like he wanted to speak, but couldn't. After a moment he managed to find his voice, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "I fought against... that? King Arthur and Herakles, in the same War?"

His sallow visage gave way to an incredibly bright grin, like he was going to split his face with his smile. He crowed in excitement. "Holy shit, I fought both of them? Even for a demigod, that's awesome! And I managed to survive, too... I'm amazing. there's no other word for it!"

Okay, so maybe he was better suited for Ilya rather than Tabitha?

* * *

Our mission ended the day after it began. Ozpin requested that we bring Mr. Dawn back, if possible, but he had disappeared overnight again, with only a note explaining to me that he was going to consult with the leader of the Burial Agency and get back to me as soon as he possibly could. I forced Lancer to promise to take good care of Tabitha, and told Tabitha that if he did anything I wouldn't approve she should tell me and I'd set him straight. A pair of Kanshous and Bakuyas through the gut would do nicely in reprimanding him about taking care of kids.

Our goodbye was a little tearful, but it was nothing unexpected from the Lumen kids. Martin had absolutely no clue who Lancer was, as he'd slept through the entire confrontation with him, but he'd accepted the blue-haired man's assumed role of a stationed Huntsman with relish and demanded that Lancer teach him something about spearmanship. Tabitha swore that she wouldn't try anything new unless I was there, but I still caught her staring longingly at the journals that I'd brought along. Maybe she'd get there someday.

The ride on the airship was comfortable, and despite the prana that was restoring my stamina, I fell asleep quickly. Those leather seats were incredibly comfortable, not to mention expensive and just... generally nice. Really nice.

Ozpin was waiting for us when we got back to Beacon. He beckoned us to follow him, which we did without much prompting. People whispered as we passed, mostly first and second years. The older kids gave us nods of respect when we passed. I supposed our haggard visages, along with whatever rumors people had been spreading about our mission, gave the students the impression that we'd gone on a Grimm extermination.

Ozpin was silent all the way to his office, but the moment he closed the door, his voice came out sharp and cool. "What'd you find?" he asked me. I stepped forward as he took his seat and turned a gear on his desk. A mug of coffee, steaming and aromatic, popped up from a hidden compartment on his desk.

"Well, we've got two other candidates for the possible Dead Apostle Ancestor," I told him. "Mr. Dawn thinks it might be the cause of the recent influx of Grimm. The attack on Beacon just a few days ago? That might have been them."

"Who are they, what do they look like, and what are their abilities?"

I gave Ozpin a brief rundown on Night of Wallachia and Altrouge Brunestud. With every word of description of the Vampire Princess, he paled further, but it was Night that seemed to unsettle him the most, and I could see why. The collective fears of a community were powerful, and if that community's predominant fear was Grimm, it could create Grimm like nobody's business. At least with Altrouge, we had a determinate gender and a very rough estimation of power. When Night was involved, his powers fluctuated depending on how scared the community involved was of their fears, and the entire world was pretty damn afraid of Grimm.

"I see." He was quiet for a few seconds, sipping his coffee like no tomorrow. Finally, deeply, he spoke. "So the best case scenario here is that Mr. Dawn brings in a couple agents of the Burial Agency, you summon your Servant and get Miss Warner's involved, and the six of you together will try and bring Nrvnqsr, or whatever Apostle you're facing, down?"

"If it's Altrouge, it's gonna be a lot more than six people, but that's the basic idea." I could feel my team's questioning gazes on me as I finished my explanation and waited for Ozpin's response.

"Other than that, I guess I need to tell you about the Sixth Grail War. I'll summon my Servant in a few days, but not now. Tabitha and Lancer are in too much danger as it is, and I'd like to confirm the identity of at least two other Servants before I summon my own."

"Are you sure you can take them?" Ozpin asked, his brow furrowed. "You said that I was at the level of an average Saber Servant."

"It'll take a lot of power and a few Noble Phantasms, but I should be able to hold off Rider, Caster or Archer. If the Berserker is anything like the one in the last War, then I'm screwed over, but most of the other classes I should at least be able to delay for a few minutes while backup arrives."

"Alright then. We'll discuss this more when some of my colleagues arrive during the Vytal Festival later this year and more events have unfolded. Until then, rest up with your team before classes. You look like you're going to need it."

I nodded and led my team outside of the room. The moment I did, Blake asked, "What was all that about?"

I blinked. Was this classified? It certainly wasn't something I would trust to people as untrained or unskilled as my team. I'd only be comfortable letting them go into battle against a Dead Apostle when they were at the level of a Servant- if they even got that far. Most of the time, Huntsmen-in-training fell to hubris and overestimated the extent of their abilities. It was the reason that first and second year classes were so much larger than the fourth and fifth. The third years, however, never seemed to learn until it was too late that they weren't able to take on hordes of Grimm by themselves, no matter how much Aura or what kind of weapons they had. It dwindled the numbers of Huntsmen by more than half every time. In the halls, I could see some of them crying already, from a team member or two who didn't make it back from their missions. Hell, there were a couple of teams in fifth year that only consisted of one member because he or she was the only one to make it back alive. As bad as I thought it was, Blake, Ruby and Ren were a lot likelier to die than I was, and I wasn't comfortable letting them go on a Dead Apostle hunt. Period.

"It's nothing," I said, waving off her small glare at being denied of information. "Just something I was discussing with Ozpin a few days ago. He had a couple of theories about the recent influx of Grimm in the world, and I was around to listen. Eventually he managed to rope me into a mission involving one of the Grimm researchers around Lumen."

Blake seemed satisfied with the explanation, and though I'd bent the truth quite a bit to make the story seem more like Ozpin's fault I still managed to say it all with a straight face. Ruby and Ren took the time to walk back to our room, wanting to catch up on the missed rest from last night, but Blake stayed by me as we walked. I ambled around the building for a few minutes before coming to a spot I'd only managed to find once before in the week and a half I'd been at Beacon.

The terrace looking over the North Wing was small, but it had a few comfortable chairs and a good view. To the north the sea glinted with mottled light, its foamy green depths spooling the sunlight and releasing it in all directions. The beach was short and rocky, but it held a kind of ephemeral beauty that was only enhanced by the overcast sky. I could see the halo of the sun behind the clouds, filtered and glinting. The crash of wave against stone was the only sound that surpassed the distance between us and the sea. It dwarfed anything I'd ever seen in Fuyuki, and a small smile graced my lips as I watched the water flow.

Beside me, Blake had relaxed completely, similarly soothed by the sight. "It's a pretty sight, isn't it?" she asked. I nodded. We both fell silent, content to stand shoulder-to-shoulder and watch.

"...I've always loved the sea," she said after a moment. "It's so free, just floating in the waves and letting the current take you wherever it wants you to go."

"You seem like the kind of person who'd hate the water," I observed. Her bow twitched as she tilted her head.

"A lot of people seem to think so. They couldn't be more wrong." Again, she fell silent, perfectly punctuated for three seconds by the sounds of snapping waves. "Sometimes I just want to float out to sea and try to find an island or something that isn't overrun by the Grimm. Fighting hurts, and not just physically. It's not Grimm alone, either. What about all the other kingdoms, ready to point weapons at others in a moment's notice, or terrorist groups like the White Fang? Are we ever going to be really safe? There are too many variables, too many mistakes that could be made, too many people fighting against each other when we should all be working together to battle the Grimm into submission. I'm tired of fighting, Jaune."

She sounded defeated, like there wasn't any other option left but to give up. She didn't have the Distortion that I did, so I couldn't really see where she was coming from, but I could see a half dozen situations where we could win, where we could fight the Grimm and negotiate with the White Fang and I could do do something in saving everyone. There shouldn't be any more danger in the world, other than something stupid and trivial like someone falling on a slippery slope or cutting their finger when making dinner.

Maybe... Maybe I did have someone to fight for again. First it was Kiritsugu, then for Issei and Sakura and Taiga, then Rin and Saber were added to the list, and when everything was taken away from me I had nothing. Now, though...

"Then I'll fight for you," I told her honestly. She turned to me, surprise in her eyes as I spoke. "If you don't want to fight anymore, I'll fight for you and do whatever you can't. We're partners, Blake, and I won't leave my partner behind when she has a goal to look forward to."

Blake was silent for a long minute, just looking into my eyes with her soft amber ones. "Thank you, Jaune," she whispered, a small smile on her face. I pulled her into a one-armed hug, noting that she didn't shy away from physical contact as much as she did on the initiation test. She rested her head on my shoulder, and I let the warmth of her body suffuse into mine.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, but by the time we separated the sun was setting and casting a beautiful fiery glow in the water. Blake stepped back and left without a word, but for some reason I could just tell that she was content, and not angry with me. I followed.

for once in my life, words weren't needed during our walk back.

* * *

Blake waited until Jaune was asleep before slipping out of her sheets and into the hallway. It had taken a bit of time and a lot of consideration, but she'd finally come to the conclusion that she couldn't handle being in the dark about her partner anymore. There were a few people she could go to, namely Ozpin and his assistant, but the two of them would probably be close-lipped about whatever it was that was affecting Jaune like it was. That left two options: either confront her partner herself, or circumvent his authority and ask someone else for help.

She had the strange feeling that he would clam up if she asked directly.

So, with just the tiniest smidgen of guilt marring her heart, she tapped on the door to team PYWN's room. Almost immediately, the gentle patter of footsteps slapped against the wooded floor, and a single ice-blue eye glittered to life in a slit in the doorway.

"Blake?" Weiss asked, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "What are you still doing up? We have an excursion tomorrow, remember?"

"That's not important. I need your help."

This time, the faint trace of irritation threaded its way onto Weiss' face. "Can't it wait till tomorrow?"

"It's about Jaune." That had an effect. Weiss stood up straighter, and though she was the most petite girl Blake knew at Beacon it still had a huge effect on sobering her visage. Icy chips glared towards amber orbs in a determined glower.

"Come in and have some coffee."

* * *

**Ooh, and we end with a bit of suspense again. I know you guys are getting tired of the cliffhangers, but they'll stop, I promise. Now, in the interest of saving time and getting this chapter out on Tuesday I'm going to skip the review section for this chapter, but I'll put them in the next one. I have a funeral to go to tomorrow, and I want to get some sleep beforehand so I don't end up a miserable wreck.**

**Keep on learning, folks, and I'll see you on Saturday.**


	18. Stray

**Hello and welcome back to Remnant of Cursed Paradise! It's been a week, but I was called up by an old friend of mine to serve as a camp counselor for a week when one of his staff called in sick. I'm back, thought, and I'm ready for action! Let's do this!**

* * *

**Chapter 18: Stray**

I snapped to alertness like usual when Blake moved to wake me from my slumber. Over the course of a month, my team and I had gotten to know each other far better. Between the few field trips that the Grimm Studies and combat teachers had taken us on and the team exercises that Glynda often had the first years performing, I had an intimate knowledge of my team members' personalities and combat styles. Therefore, the instant my Instinct blared at me that someone was approaching me, I knew it was Blake. Nobody else would bother to wake me at such an early hour in the morning.

Nevertheless, I waited for her to gently shake my shoulder before opening my eyes. She looked tired, like usual; due to her sharp intellect and inherent talent with a sword, she wasn't much of a morning person. It appeared to be a trait common in most swordsmen and scholars, considering Rin, Saber and Taiga were much the same way. My attention wavered ever so slightly as I heard the distinctive whistling of Ruby coming from behind the bathroom door. Next to it, Ren stood guard leaning against the wall with freshly washed hair and his school blazer on.

"Morning, Jaune," Blake told me as she retreated. I gave her a small smile in greeting and swept my legs out from under the sheets, depositing myself on the ground and pulling a fresh button-down out of my drawer in one smooth motion. I'd taken to practicing the more simple motions in my life and perfecting their movements to the point that I could do at least two things flawlessly. Without the dexterity granted to me by Noble Phantasms or Skills, it was the only way to increase my reflexes, which were nearing the edge of human limit even for those people with Aura. Nothing else was working the way I liked it, and four times out of ten my prana would still go haywire when I tried to use Magecraft, but other than that my body had been forged into an acceptable condition.

Ren nodded to me wordlessly and I slipped my pajamas off and my uniform on. I'd quickly learned that while Ruby lit up like a Christmas light at the sight of a changing male, neither Ren nor Blake had any problem with it, so I tended to change while Ruby was showering.

"What's on the schedule for today, Jaune?" Ruby called from behind the bathroom door. I merely glanced at my Scroll to make sure there were no new messages. I'd memorized our team's schedule within days of getting it.

"First we have Grimm Studies, but then we get the day off because Professor Goodwitch is taking us to Forever Fall to gather some tree sap for Professor Peach. It's advised to bring our weapons with us, but if you guys don't want to I could always just Trace your stuff if you need them."

"Nonsense, Jaune," Ren admonished, shaking his head and releasing a few excess droplets of water. "It wouldn't feel right to have you do all the work. Besides, I wouldn't feel right using a copy of StormFlower, no matter how accurate it is."

Blake hummed her agreement and Ruby made a noncommittal noise that became a gasp of pain when her body and the shower wall collided. Ruby had proven herself to be a lot smarter than she let on and an absolute genius in armed combat, but she was still the token klutzy character that I always seemed to befriend.

"If that's the way you want it," I said. The sun was just beginning to rise, a testament to the fact that my team was diligent to get up at six in the morning when our first class was at nine. Mostly, actually, it was me who encouraged them, but everyone sans Blake found a great deal of enjoyment in getting first dibs on breakfast and training fields.

After Ruby skipped out of the bathroom in her uniform the four of us headed down to breakfast. I'd offered to cook, but between my cooking, Ruby's and Blake's, we all agreed that it would be too expensive for us to feed ourselves until we started going on regular missions.

Breakfast was simple and fairly quiet. A few of the older students filtered in and out of the mess hall, but for the most part we were alone and discussing the homework that Professor Oobleck had assigned to us the previous night. I could tell that I rubbed him the wrong way from the slightly pained expression that graced his face whenever he looked at me, but Blake quickly became one of his favorites, rivaled only by Weiss Schnee and Pyrrha Nikos.

Speaking of Weiss, I hadn't seen her very much in those last few weeks, and I'd felt even less from Myrtenaster. There were the signals of pain that echoed throughout the school, but I never could figure out where they came from and I was usually in class when they rippled into my consciousness. Weiss' grip on the sword seemed to have gotten less scathing, but whether that was simply because of my increased understanding of the sword, her ability to deal with pain, or Weiss being gentler with her, I didn't know. Once in a while, during our team practices, I'd Trace Myrtenaster and battle with her for a short while before returning her to the endless plains of Unlimited Blade Works.

"Yo." Yang's voice came, short and sweet but dripping with mirth behind me. I turned to face the buxom blonde, feeling my eyes unconsciously travel just the slightest bit downwards before I flicked them back up. Pyrrha was to her left, Weiss to her right, and perched on her shoulders was Nora's deceptively sturdy form. I waved a hand in greeting and beckoned them to sit with us. Myrtenaster conveyed a wave of rapidly flickering sensations to me that I tried to respond to as best I could. I was no stranger in dealing with the wills of swords, but speaking to them was another matter entirely.

Pyrrha sat opposite me, like usual, while Yang and Nora took to speaking animatedly beside us. Weiss, however, broke her usual tradition of placing herself next to Pyrrha and made a beeline for Blake's seat. The two of them started whispering conspiratorially after a moment or two of tense silence. It was a bit strange, considering how Blake seemed to dislike Weiss the most out of any of our little clique. Maybe she was finally reconciling with the fact that we'd be stuck together for five years?

"What's the agenda, kiddo?" Yang asked me. Pyrrha had to stifle a chuckle, and Nora let out a short and very much unladylike snort, but Weiss merely flickered her eyes in my direction before turning them back to Blake, who was muttering something that definitely had my name in it.

"Well, we've got that assignment from Professor Peach, so at least we won't have to deal with the bane of your existence." Which was Vale History. It was almost a joke among the first years at that point that while Yang's grades were exemplary in combat and more than adequate in most of her academics, she was absolutely miserable in Vale History. I watched the girl sigh in relief, resting her chin on the table.

"Thank God," she mumbled, closing her eyes. A content expression crossed her face. "Grimm Studies and then a whole day of just walking through the forest. It's like a vacation day!"

"Don't forget that we have that practical exam in Grimm Studies," Ruby reminded her. Yang's violet flicked open in panic. "We're getting random partners, too, so you can't partner up with Pyrrha or Jaune."

"Aw, damn!" I chuckled at the sisters' antics. In a lot of ways, it was like how Taiga and Ilya treated each other, except more often than not it was Taiga in Yang's position, being taken care of by a young woman in the body of a child.

"What are you guys doing up so early, anyway?" I managed to make the words out through Nora's mouthful of pancakes. "The only reason we're up so early was because someone," and here she shot a nearly insignificant glare at Yang, "decided to bring somebody back to the room for a little snuggle session."

Ruby gasped. "You didn't!" she damn near whispered. "Yang, you promised Dad and I you wouldn't do something like that!"

"Relax, it wasn't sex or anything," Yang reasoned, but Ruby was having none of it. She continued on a truly impressive tirade about how Yang shouldn't be bringing boys to her bedroom at the age of seventeen lest she look like, and I quote (courtesy of Weiss), a "slovenly disgrace for a woman". The whole conversation lasted a total of ten minutes, during which the rest of us finished our breakfast and sat there as people trickled in, merely eyeing Ruby and Yang's argument with mildly concealed interest before turning back to their own food. Students at Beacon weren't all that pressing when it came to other peoples' business, something that I appreciated greatly.

Professor Port's lessons were, as usual, an interesting experience. Once you got a hang of how the eccentric old man acted, you actually learned quite a lot from his lessons. Usually the information was hidden in little tidbits of speech or in clever hiding places around the room. It was a class where the teachers required you to be acutely aware of the person speaking and your environments. Honestly, if Homurahara was taught this way, people would be learning so much more than if they were just given little tests and pieces of paper as notes.

That day Professor Port went on a long, monotonous story about how he'd once wrestled an Ursa to the ground with his bare hands. Most of it was just nonsensical drivel that the average teenager couldn't be bothered to listen to (and indeed, about half of the people in class were asleep), but there were a few factoids and helpful strategic bits, such as the Ursa's unprotected and weak tailbone being a perfect place to strike unnoticed. The test was completely forgotten by most of the students, but a few of them remembered that Peter Port was widely regarded as a roundabout teacher- one who teaches things in a more indirect way, something that weeds out the nonproductive students from the ones with real potential. Searching for the clues in the story was probably the real test, and judging by the glint in our teacher's eyes, I was right. He searched through the faces once in a while, looking to see who was taking notes on his adventures. When he saw my fingers tapping away at my Scroll, Pyrrha's and Blake's moving in unison on either side of me, he smiled and gave us a nod before returning to his tale.

"That was an easy test," Blake observed as we walked out of class. There was no need to go anywhere until Glynda called the first dozen or so first year students, but I weaved through the crowd and to my locker anyway. There was no sense in being unarmed in an obviously dangerous forest.

I plucked Jaune's armor, a gift that Gillian forged after he found out that I was accepted into Beacon, from my locker and tested it. It fit reasonably well, and it was designed to maximize movement, but for someone who could Reinforce their skin to the approximate hardness of crude steel it was useless. I needed something that would still allow me to move as I pleased, but still retain a special ability that boosted another of my defensive capabilities, such as Magic Resistance. I'd heard there were Nightmaiden in the forest, hollow impersonations of beautiful women that would devour you once you got too close. It was cliche, but there was no chance of me going in there unprepared.

I blinked, then smirked. I started Tracing. Gold plate after gold plate molded to my body, closely followed by silken straps and a gold linen loincloth embroidered with blue Faery marks. Instead of the original owner's design, mine was more sleek, with the pauldrons being made of a tough blue-tinted leather and the various sheets of gold on my upper legs and abdomen being changed into a mix of scale armor as opposed to plate and blue linen. It was Gilgamesh's armor, obviously Altered to fit my loose definition of a fighting style and adapted to fit over the black body armor that Archer usually wore, but it still was ultimately copied from the King of Heroes. I tested my range of motion, pleased with the results of me being able to twist my hand all the way between my shoulder blades despite the enchanted gold being just the smallest bit in the way. There was nobody around but my team, who was looking over the armor with interest.

"I thought you could only Trace weapons," Blake said with a hint of a question in her voice. Ruby bolted over and inspected one of my gauntlets, the gold clinking as it slid against itself in a smooth, oiled fashion. She practically squealed as she nearly ripped my arm from its socket, determined to study the results of my Tracing more closely. I turned to answer Blake, allowing my silver-eyed teammate to flail my hand about.

"Well, I can do other things, but weapons are by far the easiest, with swords being at the top of the list.," I explained, using my free hand to Trace a nameless broadsword. "It goes in a certain order. Swords are the easiest to Trace, followed by bladed weapons, then other weapons. Shields and other battle armaments are further down. After that, it's simple objects like chairs and tables, and the list gets more draining the more complex the object I'm Tracing becomes. Eventually, just making everything from scratch would be too taxing on my soul."

"So you're essentially a walking weapons factory?" Ren surmised. I felt my body flinch for the briefest of seconds, too quickly for even someone as perceptive as Blake to notice, then I schooled my muscles into a more practiced and neutral expression.

"That's one way to put it, but yes."

Ruby eventually let go of my armor, satisfied with her assessment of its quality, and I allowed it to dissolve into motes of gold light. "Who created it?" she immediately asked. "Is that one of your own armors, or did you Trace that from somebody else? It's of a quality I've never even seen in armors before!"

"I would have been shocked if it wasn't," I responded truthfully. Now here was the hard part: making Gilgamesh seem like he wasn't actually an incorrigible jackass. "The man I copied it from wouldn't settle for anything less than the highest quality of items, from weapons to armors and even wines and jewelry. He was a man who had nearly everything stored within his vaults, and each item was a unique treasure that was worth at least as much as this school, the plateau it's standing on, and the countryside around us for the next ten miles."

"That valuable?" Blake raised a skeptical eyebrow. I smiled and nodded.

"Yes, he didn't settle for anything that didn't characterize perfection to the highest degree. I actually copied a good quarter of the weapons in my arsenal from his vaults." It was actually more like a fifth, but the other ones were already recorded in Archer's vast pool of knowledge after we merged through the arm, bringing the total tally to somewhere around twenty five percent.

"Huh, sounds like a neat guy," Ruby muttered. My insides clenched.

"He wasn't good," I told her, "not by a long shot. He was an arrogant, narcissistic bastard that was too damn hard to kill for his own good. Gilgamesh was never interested in anything but himself."

I blinked and reality reasserted itself. Ruby was leaning away from me, apprehension on her face, and I realized that my eyes were narrowed and my mouth was screwed into an almost painful frown. "Sorry," I murmured, feeling a bit of guilt pool in my stomach. "I just really, really don't like that bastard."

"We can tell," my team members deadpanned in unison. We all glanced around, then Ruby giggled. I couldn't help but follow her lead, and eventually Blake and Ren joined in on our chucklefest. Well, I say joined- they really just cracked small smiles and looked over us fondly. The four of us had really grown, hadn't we? Just a month ago we were complete strangers with a talent for fighting, forced to live in a room by a headmaster that I'm still somewhat convinced is a psychopath. Now, however, we fought in perfect unison, a force of four people that could possibly- just possibly- match a D-level Servant if we worked together.

Students started pouring into the locker rooms,either to change for combat classes or to wait for Glynda. A smattering of boys and girls stilled themselves, preferring to lean against lockers and walls and chat rather than rush through the hall. It was a bizarre sight, one that left me feeling with a sense of loss, like I was on the outside of an otherwise perfectly familiar world.

Eventually the only people left in the locker rooms were the students in the third period Combat Practice, and Glynda swept in, her cape fluttering about behind her. I heard the sharp click of high heels snapping against the ground in a steady rhythm. "Good morning, students," she intoned, her voice as smooth and impassive as ever. A response was uttered simultaneously by most of the class. "As you know, today we're headed into Forever Fall to collect Aldor Sap from the trees. They're necessary for a number of the healing concoctions that Doctor Cander and Professor Peach mix up, so it's imperative that you focus during this task and do an exemplary job even in something as mundane as collecting sap."

Another chorus of affirmatives greeted her words, and the class shuffled out. I caught Ruby's worried eye and gave her a reassuring rub on the shoulder. "Relax," I told her. "It'll be easy. Just focus on doing the job and don't stab the wrong tree."

She snorted, and though the tension left her shoulders, I could still feel something radiating off her form. Nervousness... Affection, maybe? Whatever it was, it was so muted that I would only have noticed more clearly if she was a sword. The fact remained, however, that she was projecting her emotions, and that in itself was a hard task to accomplish for anyone who wasn't specifically attuned to Empathy Magecraft.

We boarded the airship, one that for once wasn't being piloted by the guy with the really nice leather seats, and just before we took off I remembered to pop two of the motion sickness pills. They helped, but not much, and I had to spend a good third of the trip with Blake worriedly rubbing my back as I held my head between my knees. You know, I think the effect of motion sickness was lessened in that old airship. Maybe it was just the seats.

They were really nice seats, after all.

* * *

The moment we landed I was out the door and glaring at the airship. Blake, Ruby and Ren followed, amused smiles on their faces. I was half-tempted to Trace a Nine Lives and crush that abomination of transport when Glynda stepped out, her strides long and collected, yet still somehow sensual.

"Alright, students," she intoned, sounding for all the world like she didn't want to be there. "We only have until sundown, and it's already noon. Each team is to collect ten jars of Aldor Sap and bring them back to the Bullhead for transport."

"Alright!" The students shouted. I noticed the slight curve of Glynda's lips as she glanced over us one more time. Despite her cold demeanor, she really did want the best for us, I knew. It was being a trained Huntress that suppressed that urge to coddle and gave her an indifferent mask.

Forever Fall was an apt name for our location, mostly due to its color. The wood of the trees was a deep, ashen grey, with red leaves that glimmered like a bed of embers. The grass was an equally deep crimson, undisturbed except for the small, crushed clumps where our feet had trodden and a ring of dirt around each jet of the airship. As far as I could see in every direction, the immense forest spread, so massive an expanse of bloodred that I almost mistook it for the Forest of Einnashe, the bloodsucking forest of the Dead Apostles.

"Let's get this done as soon as possible!" Ruby exclaimed, raising a fist into the air. Blake and I copied her movements, while Ren only followed the bounding figure of my teammate with a small smile. Ruby pulled out one of the taps that had been distributed on the airship and jammed it into the bark of he tree. Despite Aldor wood's toughness, it split easily under the force of sharpened steel, and red sap immediately began to trickle from the nozzle. As the jar underneath filled with the ruby liquid, drop by drop, the rest of us tapped our own trunks and got to work.

"This is taking foreveeer," I heard Nora moan from behind me. I twisted my head; she and Pyrrha were tapping the same Aldor, Weiss and Yang draining the trees on either side of them. Next to Weiss was a group of four boys that looked vaguely familiar. Velvet, bless her wonderful soul, was one of the few second years that had followed along with us to guard the airship from any Grimm while Glynda supervised our efforts. I could see her rabbit ears twitching around alertly, a perfect complement to her searching eyes and impassive expression.

The minutes passed in short conversation. Blake suddenly tensed next to me about ten minutes into our work, and I extended my fingers in preparation to Trace.

One of the four boys from the tree beside Weiss was walking up to us. His gold and silver armor looked like it was high quality, and a quick glance with Structural Analysis told me that it was forged not six months ago, probably as a graduation present from the guy's last school. He raised a hand in greeting.

"Jaune, buddy, could I get a bit of help for a second?" he called. I frowned, but just for a second; this guy knew my name, but that was pretty normal when I was one of the top ten guys in academics, and one of the top five in combat. "Most of the trees we're trying aren't letting loose any sap, and we think there's a problem with our taps. You got a minute?"

Oh, so these guys just wanted my help? that's no problem, then. "Blake, watch mine for a minute or two?" I asked. She nodded. I stood with a single motion and followed the guy.

"Cardin Winchester," he introduced, shaking my hand. "You were the one that hit me with an arrow in the initiation tournament, right?"

His team followed us as we ambled to the deeper part of the woods. Hmm... the initiation? Was he the first guy I shot, the one that was fighting Blake in the very beginning?

I asked him as much, and he nodded, a small grin on his face. I inspected one of the taps while he talked. The steel certainly seemed worn, but other than that, it appeared to be in good working order.

"Yeah. I never did get to repay you for that, you little shit." Hmm, I guess he was... wait, what?

I didn't get to say anything because right then and there a fist slammed into the back of my head, sending me tumbling across a small clearing in the deep red woods. I could feel a deep, throbbing pain in the back of my skull, and somewhere during the tumble I must have gotten a concussion. Reds and blacks rippled in my sight for a second before solidifying into their proper shapes once more. In front of my trembling gaze, Cardin was smirking above me, his fist outstretched. There were flecks of blood on it.

"Here's our payback, bastard," he cracked. A foot impacted itself with my stomach, and I instinctively reacted. Kanshou and Bakuya were in my hands before I thought twice, and I pushed myself to my feet. My abdomen strained and burned as I pulled all of my body weight into an acceptable position, but it was a small price to pay to be able to get into motion in a flash. The green-haired kid's foot moved from the floor and came towards my chest, but I pushed myself backwards, throwing Bakuya as I did so. He brought out his own weapons- two revolvers with viciously curved daggers. Each barrel was filled with different types of Dust, just like Myrtenaster.

Bakuya skittered off the two weapons with ease, but the moment it flew into the air it curved back around, the pommel slamming into Russell's back and throwing him off kilter. I whirled, bringing Kanshou up to block the blue-haired one's halberd, a sharp and intricate weapon that wouldn't have done him any good in a real battle. Its swooping edges would easily get caught in a weapon's grasp. While I did that, I felt more than saw Cardin's massive mace swinging towards my back. I turned, managing to catch it on my ribs instead of my blunt force blasted straight through the plates of gold on my chest, and I heard several cracks, most likely my bones creaking under the force of the blow. I allowed Kanshou to dissipate and went flying back into the piles of leaves dotting the ground. Cardin laughed and advanced further, a cocky smirk on his face.

I had two options here. First, I could break my promise to Ozpin and use my full strength on them, which would involve revealing not only my full Tracing ability but also the true extent of my power to people who didn't have any right to it. On the other hand, I could play the part of a gifted first year- someone who would fight as well as they could against four averagely skilled classmates, but would ultimately fall.

In the end, my uncanny tendency to keep promises won out over my survival instincts, and I restrained my Strength, Agility and other stats. I spun and dodged another strike from the halberd, picking up Bakuya along the way and striking it against the shaft of Cardin's mace.

the brunet's sword, a Hallstatt- a pre-Celtic weapon from the early Iron Age that didn't have much in the way of a crossguard- whistled down next to my head, to maim my shoulder and prevent me from moving too much. I dodged to the side and vaulted over the blunet's halberd. I landed right in between Cardin and the green-haired one. They both struck and, unable to dodge or block both with my current skillset, I simply shoved aside Cardin's mace and allowed the steel of the revolver-knives to dig into me.

Or I _would_ have, if a black blade hadn't stopped them from moving.

There was a clang, and everything stopped for the smallest of split-seconds. Blake, her hair streaming behind her and golden eyes filled with fury, was crouched in front of me, Gambol Shroud's cleaver blade held in a reverse grip. Then time resumed, and she flickered into action, disarming the green-haired kid and twirling to face me at the same time. "You're alright?" she asked, her voice low enough that only the two of us could hear. Her breath smelled like something sweet. Cherries, maybe?

Disregarding the scent, I nodded and summoned another copy of Bakuya to complete the pair. The two swords hummed beneath my fingers, and I knew that if Blake had my back then I could go all out on these bastards and not be found out. "I'll take the two on the left, you take the two on the right?"

She glanced over the forms of the blunet and the kid with the Hallstatt and nodded. After that, there wasn't any need for words, because the two of us were so intimately aware of our surroundings, and by extension, each other, that it only took a total of one minute before we had overpowered our quarries and knocked them all out.

Blake finished her work by smacking Gambol Shroud's sheath across the blunet's face. I sat, allowing my legs to rest; the battle hadn't been very taxing, but my Circuits over-Reinforced them just a little, and I could feel the prana eating away at my protective Aura shield.

Blake was beside me in an instant, obviously thinking that I wasn't okay. I smiled at her protectiveness of her teammates. "Let's get back to work," she suggested. I allowed her to pull me to my feet, but after that I took the lead, unwilling to look weak in front of people like Cardin.

"What about these jokers?" I asked. She smiled, slightly, opening her mouth to respond, but another voice cut her off. I spun to face the possible new threat; the voice was unfamiliar, but from the way Blake stiffened and whirled as fast as I did, she must have known who it belonged to.

"What about them?" The man had red hair, a brighter shade than mine but still to dull to match the vibrancy of Forever Fall. Most of his face was concealed by a Grimm mask with four eyes, but his mouth was twisted into a mocking smile. He had a pair of brown locks- or were they horns?- that stuck up against his red hair, one situated on either side of his forehead. A black tailcoat was set over his white shirt and black pants, ending with a lethal-looking katana that I Traced automatically. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. The sheath was designed to be an ejection module that would shoot the sword like a bullet, hilt-first, with an extreme amount of pressurized air.

"Come on, do you really think that these people are worth leaving alive?" he continued, his mouth dropping into a small scowl. "These disgusting humans are the worst breed of your kind, the one who believe they are superior to us. Can you not see our ability, the traits that make us greater than any human? Can you not see the ears that can hear the truth, the eyes that can see what no human can see? Among this planet's inhabitants, nature herself has bestowed us with instinct and ability beyond human comprehension."

He put his hand on his sheath, pulling just an inch of the bloodred blade out towards the semi-conscious Cardin's neck. My hands moved, and then I was holding Kanshou and Bakuya, ready to tackle this unknown man to the ground and beat the life out of him if necessary.

"A-Adam..." Blake whispered. It was the first of only six times where I'd ever heard her scared. That wasn't the only emotion in her voice, though; there was anger, and pity, and sadness and regret and a little bit of hope, and a dozen other complex things I couldn't put a name to. "What are you doing here?"

Adam tilted his head towards Blake, pushing the sword- Wilt- back into its sheath. "I was here to give you one last shot at coming back, Belladonna," he said. Blake flinched when he used her surname, like she hadn't expected that level of coldness. "Now that I've found you're consorting with a few humans, however... I see my efforts were in vain. I'll take my leave."

With that, he turned and began to walk back into the undergrowth of red. Blake reached out a hand and started to say something, but with the smallest, most insignificant sob, the words died in her throat. Adam took one, two, three steps forward. He paused in his gait, then he stopped and turned back to me.

"You, with the red hair." I glared at him. He raised his hand. On the back of his left hand was a semi-familiar mark. Three teardrops arranged in a triangle surrounded by a single, circular line adorned his skin, just as red as his hair and eyes.

"Command Seals," I growled. Adam nodded.

"Summon your Servant soon, human. I want to see how well you'll fare against my own. Then, when you're beaten, I will cut you down myself."

He flickered, then vanished. Blake and I stood in silence for several minutes. The only sign of passing time was the fall of leaves, dancing gracefully from the Aldor trees at a snail's pace of five centimeters per second.

"So, I guess you've found out." I turned and looked at Blake and her sad, deep gold eyes. "I'm a Faunus."

Hold on, that was what she was so worked up about? I stepped forward, and before she could turn I grabbed her hands. "Blake, look at me. Look at me." She reluctantly gazed back at me. I could see the hurt in her eyes, in her face, in her very posture. "I've never been one for racial classes in society, you know."

"Hmm?" Blake's perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed in surprise, and she twitched in my grip. Her gaze traveled from my cheekbones, to my eyes, then down to my chin.

"I knew it!" We both jumped. Wait, what?

Weiss was dancing on a foot, spinning and looking for all the world like she'd won the lottery. "I knew you were a Faunus!" she crowed. "All the signs were there and everything! Even that bow twitches once in a while; there are ears under it, aren't there?"

Blake stumbled back in shock. "Y-you're not mad?" she stuttered out. "Even after I kept this a secret? Even after the White Fang terrorised the Schnee Company for years?"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Blake, I'm appalled. The White Fang is a menace, yes, but what they do and what normal Faunus do are very different things. I haven't become that prejudiced towards some of my father's nemeses yet. Besides... loath as I am to admit it, I must say that you and Jaune have managed to worm your way into my good graces."

"What she means is that you're our friends," Yang amended, popping up behind Blake to grab her in a one-armed hug. "And we don't leave friends behind."

I could see the tears about to flow, and knowing Blake, she would want to be with as few people as possible during that time. With that in mind, I darted behind a few trees and began a leisurely walk towards a secluded area. There wouldn't be a ride back to Vale for several hours, and despite everything that happened at Beacon there were rules in place about students wandering off during a lesson, so I stuck as close to the ship as I could without being overheard. It made for an interesting challenge, one that brushed the last vestiges of torpor from my mind after my head's brief collision with Cardin's fist.

As I walked, I glanced down at my Command Seals. They were similar to the sigils I'd obtained last time, but not exactly the same. What did that mean? Was I going to summon a different Servant, or were the Seals different every time someone participated in a War? Did it mark some strange resolution I'd undergone during my time here?

I sighed. The Grail War, to put it bluntly, sucked.

* * *

**And that's a wrap! Honestly, it took a bit of time to get this chapter out due to the sheer amount of editing I had to do to fit a few small story changes in there. Next chapter maybe we'll get to see a new fight, but aat least this one wasn't a cliffie!**

**Anyway, onto reviews!**

**Vallavarayan: That's something I thought was weird. It's generally assumed that all of Jaune's family is composed of Huntsmen and Huntresses, so why did he never get his Aura unlocked? Unless the Arcs are some superhuman family that don't have to rely on Aura to excel in combat that didn't make a lot of sense.**

**tsun: Sorry you don't like the story, I really am. As for your comment, Lancer can use it 7 times, yes, but Shirou's got a lot more prana at his disposal to do stuff with. Lancer wasn't really a Magus; all he managed to master to any degree of efficiency in his time was Runes, and while Gae Bolg takes a fair bit of prana to activate, it's not enough to hinder either Lancer or Shirou if they only use it once.**

**Random Reader: Sorry you don't like the story man.**

**ThePhantomScribe: It is! A + in canon denotes a multiplier of the amount of pluses that follow the letter (If I remember correctly, Vlad the Impaler had a skill that was ranked A+++ and a few Servants have A+ in various stats, such as Karna), while a - denotes a stat that falls somewhere between the stat before it and the stat above that (for example, a C- being in between a C and a D).**

**MEleeSmasher: heh.**

**Fenerath: He'll do it soon, don't worry! Besides, I love the Servant I picked out for Shirou far too much for them not to have any screentime!**

**Anyway, that seems to be it for this chapter. Like I said, we might see a new battle next chapter, and maybe... just maybe... a summons? Keep on reading and learn a thing or two this week!**


	19. Stray, Part II

**Welcome back to Remnant of Cursed Paradise! Now, I know I missed an update, but I have a good reason for it: my Fate/The Gamer crossover has officially been started! I have all the storyboards and character sheets written out, but I'm going to be spending a lot of my time writing the first draft of that and not editing this. What that means is that for now, and very possibly until this story is over, I'm only going to be putting one update up a week, on Saturdays. Sorry about that, but I'm really excited to write this new fic!**

**Well, that's the end of that, so let's get to it!**

* * *

**Chapter 19: Stray, Part II**

"Jaune Arc and Weiss Schnee, please step forward."

This was the second time I'd battled Weiss in Combat Practice, the first being way back when during our first days of classes. It was a welcome announcement, honestly; my entire team was getting agitated, and a chance to battle someone would most certainly take the edge off their stress.

What was the source of their stress, you ask? Blake.

For three days in a row, Blake had spent the bare minimum amount of time necessary with the rest of us, preferring instead to run off wherever the second we were done with classes and homework. She hadn't bothered to try and wake me up for the same three days, and by the time I opened my eyes she'd either be slipping out the door or already long gone. She refused to sit with us at mealtimes, she didn't speak once with Weiss, and I could honestly say that I'd only been within ten meters of her for about four hours a day, as opposed to the twenty or so hours it had been before.

Beside me, Ruby glanced at me worriedly. "Are you sure you want to do this, Jaune? We could always go and look for Blake instead."

"I trust Blake to take care of herself at least as long as this battle will last. We'll start looking for her as soon as I wipe the floor with Weiss, alright?"

Ruby sat to my right, her legs folded against each other in a pretzel-like bend. To my left, Ren was reading silently, although his eyes flicked towards me once a minute or so. The three of us were sitting on a bleacher off to the side of the arena. I tapped my feet against the cheap steel, making it ring as I stood.

"I'm with Jaune on this one," Ren commented idly. Ruby twitched and turned towards him, incredulity in her eyes. "This is class, Ruby. We can't just leave whenever we want."

Props to Ren for calling things like they are. Ruby's eyes darted between me and him before she sighed audibly and slapped her hands on her knees. "Fine, do what you want! It's not like I care or anything!"

I half expected to hear a "b-b-baka" somewhere in there, but none came. I suppose I wasn't used to Rin not being around to reprimand me, even after four months of living in Remnant. I guess two weeks' worth of life-changing action was more impressing on one's personality than almost half a year's worth of life as a Huntsman-in-training.

It was disconcerting, though, to see Ruby get so frustrated for Blake's sake. I'd known that as the two women of our team they'd bonded, but I never really noticed how much until that moment. It was a little heartwarming, to be honest.

"Do you think you can win?" he asked me. "Weiss isn't weak by any stretch of the imagination, and I figure you're not aiming to maim."

"how'd you know that?"

He smiled slightly. "You give off a certain feeling of security. People like you abhor hurting for any reason other than utter necessity. My grandfather had the same effect on people."

"Heh, I guess you're right," I admitted.

"What weapons will you be using?"

"You'll see, Ren."

I pushed off the bleacher's floorboard and landed gently on the stage. Weiss was waiting in her corner already, anticipation alighting in her eyes when she looked at me. Beside her, Pyrrha was whispering in her ear, probably trying to convince her to tone her fighting down to give me a shot. Weiss was good, and she was right under me in student rankings when it came to combat, but Pyrrha honestly had more faith in her partner winning than she did me. Like with all of the Combat Practice rooms, there was a faint smell of ozone and gunpowder that lingered in the air, the result of dozens of years' worth of training Huntsmen and Huntresses with live ammunition and Dust. The dueling platform that took up most of the room was spotless, however, and Glynda waited for us to ready ourselves before starting.

Weiss stepped forward when I took my place. "I hope you're ready to lose, Jaune," she grinned.

I snorted. "You're really full of yourself, aren't you, Weiss?" I retorted. She twisted to a ready position, and Myrtenaster flickered to life. The sword hummed inquisitively towards my presence, something that Weiss must have taken as a confirmation of her ability to wield it. I noticed the pain dulling down even more that it had been the month before, She smirked wickedly.

"Let's do this," I grumbled, Tracing into existence a scarlet spear.

"You're both ready?" Glynda asked, taking a step back and sitting in the referee's booth. I nodded. Thirty feet away from me, Weiss mirrored my motion, her eyes bobbing in their sockets, keeping track of my shoulders and arms the whole time. It was a common tactic amongst swordsmen and swordswomen. Most of the finesse in wielding a sword came from the shoulders, elbows and wrists, while the power came in the body's weight being put into the attack. By watching my shoulders, she would know exactly what kind of strike I was planning on performing, even when she had no clue how much power I put into it.

There was a huge problem with that: the fact that I was using a spear.

Gae Dearg sat motionless in my hands. There was a massive difference between fighting against another swordsman and a spearman, and Weiss probably only had experience in fighting Grimm and people that used the same weapon type as she did- that is, fencers. Fencers were all about technique, needing very little actual power to win their matches because power simply wasn't a factor in their style of fighting. Spearmanship, on the other hand, required less finesse, but more power. A proper Lancer could easily attack in slashes and cuts, but even Diarmuid Ua Duibhne's skill, Traced through the spear, couldn't fully teach me how to move like that. I just didn't have the physical capability to do so. Instead I was stuck with using one of the Irish hero's strong suits: stabs and thrusts.

"Begin." The word rang out in the silence like a gong. Weiss twitched, then bolted forward, her legs propelling her a full ten feet forwards with a single step. In response, I extended Gae Dearg and waited. One second passed, then two. With every beat of my calm heart, Weiss drew a half dozen feet closer, until with a clang of steel, she knocked my spear to the side and thrust inside my guard. The tip of Myrtenaster got within an inch of my skin, but before the burgeoning consciousness within her depths could break the skin I twirled away, bringing Gae Dearg with me. The haft whipped through the air and just barely missed Weiss' forehead. I leapt back and returned to Diarmuid's preferred position, one that was much like Lancer's when he performed his Gae Bolg. Weiss seemed slightly unnerved by my reaction time, but before I could analyze her expression further she was approaching me once again, Myrtenaster extended in an attempt to impale me. This time I was the one who knocked the blow away. She stumbled, her stance not prepared to be pushed off balance like I'd done..

Weiss was like Rin in a way: cold, calm and a splendid fighter that made use of the elements with a spectacular flair. She was also like Rin in that she very easily got frustrated. And when frustrated, Rin's competence on the battlefield dropped by several orders of magnitude.

For a third time, then a fourth and fifth, I blocked Weiss' stabs. Her smooth, creamy arms coiled and flexed like a pair of snakes, darting forward only to return to their starting positions only a moment after they'd been released.

"Gae Dearg," I hummed, calling out the name of the spear. It glowed with a soft crimson light. Gae Dearg was a passive Noble Phantasm, meaning that its powers were always active, but uttering its name and shoving it chock-full with prana boosted the properties it held by a considerable amount. Weiss' fingers darted to the almost invisible trigger hidden on Myrtenaster's grip. The sword shuddered with suppressed pain. I could almost feel the injection of Dust into infinitesimal holes inside her blade, igniting her from within. A halo of fire sprung to life around her, like an angelic sword.

Then Weiss swung, and the arc of fire was headed directly towards me.

I rolled, just barely managing to clear the deadly wave. I ripped a few strands of hair from my head and brought their sword forms to life. The pseudo-familiars hovered lazily in the air, waiting for my orders. I set them to darting around the stage above us, looking for an opportunity to attack, and refocused on another stream of flames coming towards me. I slashed Gae Dearg forward, fully intending to block the ethereal wave.

To our left, Ren gasped audibly, but his surprised noise fizzled out soon after, much like the fire.

As they touched Gae Dearg's enchanted blade, the flames simply sputtered out, no longer existing in the light of my spear's curse. Gae Dearg had a vaguely similar effect to another, more familiar Noble Phantasm I'd once Traced: Rule Breaker. Like Caster's wretched dagger, Gae Dearg was capable of disrupting Magecraft, but unlike the contract-severing blade, this spear's limit was found in destroying any Magecraft it came across in a much more crude and magnified way. From magical attacks to magical defense, anything with a large concentration of prana inside it was completely nullified by the spear's effects.

Just like the fire.

The light and heat prevented me from looking at what exactly caused the fire to dissipate, but Weiss seemed put out and enraged at the same time that her attack hadn't done anything. The pain from Myrtenaster doubled in intensity, and a blast of fire twice the size of the first burst forth from Myrtenaster's blade. I repeated the motion, putting a bit more effort into my swing, and the first vanished harmlessly again.

"How are you doing that?!" Weiss hissed, darting forward to slash at my face. I leaned back and swept Gae Dearg's haft at her legs. Unable to jump in her heels, she was left groaning in pain as the red wood slapped at her heels and drove her back a few feet.

I spun forward, lifting the haft at slapping it across her ribs. She retaliated with a short, sharp jab at my eye, which scraped the flesh beside my eyeball. I stepped away and batted Myrtenaster's blade to the side before getting into her grip and punching. My blow missed, but it set her stumbling a bit and I didn't hesitate to press my advantage.

"Ha!" I laughed as I swung downwards, knocking Weiss' hands away from their position. Another swipe brought Gae Dearg's tip up to her neck. She fell back and rolled, bringing herself back into a starting position. Another click of Myrtenaster's barrel revealed a stream of icy blue Dust. A line of icicles appeared in the air when Weiss struck out, each one traveling in a different direction to land at one of my vital points. I struck one, shattering it instantly, then rolled out of the way of a second and sent my hair familiars at three more. The sixth and seventh were knocked aside by a foot, the eighth by a fist, and the ninth was deflected back at her.

Weiss moved like a bullet. The only sign I caught of her moving was a white streak bolting around our chosen battlefield, creating more miniature glaciers to attack from. It seemed she would be sticking to a more range-oriented attack style for the time being. It was effective, sure, but it still wasn't any match for my weaponry.

* * *

Ozpin sipped his coffee and glanced over his papers towards the city of Vale. It really was a beautiful sight, with the noonday sun shining on the bay behind it and the lagoon that pooled at its base. The city's few skyscrapers glinted brightly in the light, gilded with white flickers like torches that floated precariously above the earth. With his eyesight sharpened by the specially enhanced glasses perched on the tip of his nose, he could spot the blurry, brightly colored figures of humans and Faunus alike roaming the streets.

With his observation of the city complete, he turned his thought to his students, completely ignoring the files he was holding; the same files, in fact, that he had been holding for the past two days while he was in his office. He never could get around to sending those accumulated messages, unfortunately.

He spent a moment contemplating the condition of team CRDL in the first year class. The injuries they had sustained were certainly non-lethal, and from Shirou's eyewitness accounts they were made in self-defence, but there was still the fact that Cardin Winchester and Sky Lark both had powerful and wealthy relatives on Vale's board of governors. It was probably the only reason that Sky had gotten in in the first place, considering his average combat scores and absolutely abysmal grades.

Blake Belladonna's fighting style certainly left nothing to the imagination, and how brutally effective it was meant that it had either been honed over several generations in nonlethal situations or it had been developed years before her attendance at Beacon in actual, deadly missions. For some reason that he couldn't place, Ozpin believed it to be the latter. He could tell that she wasn't normal, but to what degree of strangeness he had no idea.

Then his thoughts turned towards a particularly peculiar person: Shirou Emiya. The boy, a lost soul that had assimilated and taken over Jaune Arc's body, was frighteningly powerful for a sixteen year old, and he admitted that he wasn't a very powerful Magus to begin with. If those of true talent could be found and brought over between whatever gap that he and Mr. Dawn had somehow been able to cross, just how much would they affect the ongoing war against the Grimm? Would they be able to do what living things had been trying to do since ancient times and defeat the black menace, or would they too find themselves outmatched by the sheer enormity and power of the monstrous beasts?

"Professor!" Ozpin blinked and swivelled his chair to face the doors of the elevator leading to his office. The gears finished cranking, revealing an out of breath Ruby Rose. She stormed to his desk, a certain kind of righteous fury in her eyes that made him feel slightly uncomfortable at the intensity of her feelings regarding the subject she was about to broach with him.

"How may I help you, Miss Rose?" he asked.

"Professor, you have to come quick!" she insisted, holding her hands out as if to beckon him to the elevator. "Jaune and Weiss are having a duel, and it looks a lot more serious than usual, and I'm worried that one of them will die and Goodwitch is there but she's not doing anything to stop it and I think there's this weird stain on the hem of your shirt- but that doesn't have anything to do with this. You have to stop it!"

"Hmm." Ozpin absently nodded as he considered the request. On the one hand, he could stop the potential death of one or both of his students, but on the other hand...

"They will be able to handle themselves, Miss Rose," he decided calmly. "I'll just stay here and continue drinking my coffee."

"Drink you- Professor, this is serious!"

"I know it is," Ozpin sighed, setting his cup down once again. "Miss Rose, I can't deny that I'm worried for my students' safety when it comes to things like this, but there are two things you have to remember. Firstly, and most importantly, this doesn't pose a danger to anybody except the two involved. The fact that I'm just hearing about this now, and I'm not nicknamed "The Professor" for no reason, is proof of that fact. Secondly, I believe you're worried about Jaune. Am I correct in saying that?"

Ruby nodded. Ozpin gave her a knowing smile. "Ah, young love. I forgot that you children have your idle crushes." As Ruby's face flamed, he continued. "But I don't think you have to worry that much about Jaune. I dare to say that by the time his seventeenth birthday has come around, he will have improved enough to stall me in single combat... for a moment or two, that is. He is a very powerful figure, Ruby, one that could most likely defeat any member of the first year class, most of the second, a good half of the third and maybe a quarter of the fifth. His ingenuity, battle experience and unique ability to Trace any weapon he has ever seen gives him an extreme advantage in both close-quarters and ranged combat. He will defeat Miss Schnee, of that I have no doubt."

"Oh..." Ruby seemed at a loss for words at his explanation. She floundered for a moment before turning tail and walking back towards the elevator, a profound blush still on her face. At the last moment, just before she dialed for the elevator to come up, she paused and turned to face him. "Professor, can I ask one more question?"

"You just did, but I'll allow it."

She tapped her fingers together. "Well," she began, "whenever you're talking about Jaune, you always call him by his first name. Why is that?"

Ozpin blinked. He truly hadn't ever noticed that, and said as much. "I do, however, have the incorrigible habit of calling those few people that have truly incredible potential by their given names."

* * *

Gae Dearg lashed out almost of its own accord, scraping across the very tip of an icicle. It cracked and broke, and I caught the shards in my makeshift hair swords. I stepped forward and threw the bloodred spear. Even as I Traced another, it crashed against a glacier about the size of my torso and exploded. I repeated this process thrice more, until there wasn't a single bit of ice left on the battlefield. Weiss scowled.

"You can't beat me like this," I warned, but she didn't listen. Instead, another vial of Dust loaded into the barrel, this one green. Myrtenaster flicked with an ephemeral viridian light.

Weiss disappeared.

Only my Instinct saved me from a painful impaling death. I turned to the right, just barely dodging the sudden stab at my ribs. As it was, my shirt was tugged and torn by the point of Myrtenaster's razorlike blade. Her spiralled hilt released a faint mist of green light, then Weiss was gone again, and I let prana erupt inside my body.

My Aura was actively holding the Reinforcement back, but it still filled me to my limits within a second. Weiss suddenly appeared again, a little blurry, but nonetheless visible. Myrtenaster lashed out, glinting with a silver light. I absently Traced a Kanshou in my free hand and batted it aside, then threw all of my weight into slapping Weiss in the stomach with Gae Dearg. She wheezed and fell to the ground.

"Give up yet?" I asked. She shook her head and pulled something out of a hidden pocket in her skirt. It was... Dust?

Yes, it was Dust, but what good would a little vial do on its own? Weiss pulled off the stopper and clicked a small lever on the inside handle of the vial's lip. The powder rose into the air, coalescing into a line of crystalline projectiles, their tips gleaming in the artificial light above us. Heat emanated off them, so intense that I could feel it wash over me even from twenty feet away. Weiss began to sweat.

The projectiles fired, speeding towards me faster than I could track them. I leapt into the air, trying to hold myself long enough to let the crystals pass beneath me. They did, but when they struck the wall, they exploded with the force of a cannon.

Weiss pulled out another vial, this time a deep, ocean blue, and threw it at me before stabbing outwards with Myrtenaster. Surprisingly, a prickle of prana shot out of her point, colliding with the Dust vial.

The prana... changed. There was no other way to accurately describe it without going into a thought process that would likely cost me the battle with its intricacy. It reacted with the Dust, empowering it, making it far more volatile than it was meant to be. It wasn't Reinforcement, not exactly, but at the same time it wasn't Alteration, either. The streak of prana became a ticking time bomb that, when aided by the Dust, would explode outward with destructive force.

And explode it did.

I saw the change happening with Structural Analysis even while it changed. The Dust structure brought all of the surrounding hydrogen and oxygen together into a ball, combined it to form pure, unfiltered water, then pushed it outward in the same general direction as the prana bolt was head. Namely, me. I swung Gae Dearg.

It didn't do anything.

Before I could contemplate why Gae Dearg suddenly stopped working I was swept up in a deluge of water that threw me to the very edge of our arena. I managed to bring up a shield of swords, each one cloaked by a halo of light that made them nigh-indiscernible, just before it threw me off. Despite it not being a real death match to me, being thrown out of the ring by someone so inexperienced would only be an embarrassment, to me and to the immensely powerful array of weapons inside of Unlimited Blade Works.

"Hmm..." I hummed as I stood up again, waiting for the shield to fall apart and the blast of water to stop bombarding it. Why had Gae Dearg failed? It was supposed to block anything magical, and from what I'd seen it had done the exact same thing with Dust and Aura. If that was the case, then why didn't it erase the water from existence, but completely obliterated the ice and fire she'd conjured?

Finally, the water torrent stopped, and I allowed my wall of nameless swords to fall to the ground and shatter. Weiss was glaring daggers at me still. "So that's how you did that trick with your swords in Grimm History!" she snapped, shooting forward to stab me once again. I threw Kanshou hard enough to distract her. It bounced off of Myrtenaster and pulsed, coming back around to my hand, where a recently Traced Bakuya was waiting for it. "You're making them out of nothing? That's so cheating!"

I frowned. "Cheating is a subjective term," I told her shortly. I'll admit that I enjoyed her reddening face just a tiny bit. "I'm simply winning. Fight with all your skill, or you die." Even if it's not your skill to begin with.

To demonstrate, I Traced seven copies of Durandal, one after the other, their blades shimmering with pearlescent white light. Each one floated in the confines of my hand for just a second before I threw them at breakneck speeds. All seven impacted Weiss in one form or another, mostly tiny slices that only drew a thin trail of blood. The worst injury she got was a blade that dug halfway to the bone on her nondominant arm before fading. She let out a tiny cry.

"See what I mean, Weiss?" I told her. I Traced a chain, tipped on each end by an intricate golden ornament. It was Enkidu, the great binder that would restrain near-anything, even the might of a fully-powered Berserker. It was one of Gilgamesh's most prized treasures, and the only reason I ever managed to Trace it was because I'd seen it used against the mighty Greek hero when the Einzbern Manse was raided by Gilgamesh himself. That was the day when my little sister died.

I ruthlessly quashed a surge of anger that bubbled up inside me. That was from another life, one that I couldn't look back at and only learn from.

I have no regrets; this is the only path.

Enkidu shot forth of its own accord. Its gunmetal grey chains wrapped endlessly around Weiss, starting at her arms and reaching slowly around her body. After seven seconds of cries of disbelief and anger, she was wrapped in something that, were it not for the clothing already on her, could have been considered something out of Rin's weird bondage comics. Enkidu's chains crisscrossed along Weiss' open skin, digging into it ever so slightly. Myrtenaster had been knocked from her hand. It grew increasingly warm as I stepped closer to them.

"You're pretty good, Weiss, there's no doubt about that," I continued. Bright, stunning blood dripped down her left arm, contrasting blindingly with her pale-as-ice skin. "The only problem is that you're too proud of your power. You're intoxicated by your ability, and that's where you will fail."

I stooped down and picked up Myrtenaster. Her hilt warmed in excitement, and the white script erupted to life on her blade. I could literally feel the palpable buzz of emotion that contrasted so greatly with Weiss' disbelief at losing once again. "Sorry, Weiss. You lose."

Weiss eventually gave up struggling, bowing her head in defeat. That was what I was afraid of. Weiss was spoiled, pampered to the point where even if she was an incredible fighter it wouldn't have done any good. Saber would never have given up, and neither would any of the Heroic Spirits I had encountered. Not even Blake and Ruby, regular humans with a knack for fighting were as weak-willed as that. I raised Gae Dearg up, the point glinting with bloodlust. Pyrrha squeaked and turned her head away. Ren just watched impassively. Weiss was looking at the ground with a deadness in her eyes that was very reminiscent of the first and only time I'd found Sakura writhing in Zouken's pit of familiar Crest Worms. That look... I hated it.

So, I shut my eyes, dropped Myrtenaster, and swung the flat of Gae Dearg as hard as I could.

I could hear Weiss' jaw snap loudly in the quiet room. I would surely have crushed her skull and mandible at the same time if I'd Reinforced myself, so I stuck to normal Strength, but even then it was a natural D rank. Her entire body would have gone sailing, head-first, to smash against the wall had Enkidu not been holding her. She slumped, totally unconscious.

"And it seems that Jaune Arc is the winner of this bout," Glynda reported. She was glancing worriedly at Weiss, who still lay unmoving on the floor. Her Aura was almost completely depleted, a fairly bad sign on its own, but given time and rest she would be fine. Pyrrha darted to her partner's side, glaring at me as if to challenge me to place a blade to both their necks.

"Go ahead and take her to that psychopath of a healer," I told her. "Hurting Weiss was never my objective. Besides, there's a teacher right behind you."

Eventually, we nodded to each other and she left with Weiss in tow. I flicked my hand. Sometime during the altercation, Myrtenaster cut the back of my hand, casting a deep groove directly over the center of my Command Seals. I shook the bloodstains off my blades and sheathed them at my hip.

"What do we do now?" Ren asked. I stood.

"Isn't it obvious?" I asked, feeling the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of my lips. "We're going to get Ruby and then find my partner. She's been away from home for far too long already."

* * *

Ruby was waiting for us outside our room. Her foot tapped impatiently, her arms had crossed, and she was glaring at us as we approached.

"You happy now?" she asked, venom lacing her voice. I nodded.

"I'm quite satisfied with how the situation turned out, yes." that probably wasn't the answer she wanted to hear. Her cheeks puffed up with red, and she turned away from us and stalked back into the room. Ren rolled his eyes, but followed her.

"We'll be out in a few minutes," he told me. "You go ahead and start searching for Blake."

"Got it." With that, we parted ways. I wandered around the castle for a few minutes, inspecting most of Blake's usual hidey-holes. She had completely disappeared from Beacon, but that still left a host of other places she could be. She could be in Vale, Forever Fall, or even out of the country, if she'd managed to find an airship in time. Only one way to find out, I suppose.

In the depths of the library, I Traced a copy of Durandal and held its shining white blade up to the light. "Miracle," I whispered. The blade of Roland's sword exploded with white light, swirling in the air until it formed a round, mirror-like disc protruding from a gilded hilt. The very edges of the disc stayed white, but the inside shimmered and bled with black. Color then replaced the dark circle, revealing a black-haired girl walking across a semi-familiar street. Blake seemed to be in Vale, after all.

I released the miraculous blade and shattered Durandal's hilt. Miracles only went so far, and I didn't know how twisting spacetime to show Blake's location would affect me or my prana. Best case scenario, it would just drain me dry if I held it for too long. Worst case scenario, I'd accidentally blow up part of the continent.

"Let's see now..." I bolted out of the room, startling Velvet as she tried to balance a dozen or so books in her arms. I heard the clatter of leather hitting wood as I rushed towards the city.

There wasn't any point in waving down an airship, so I just focused all of the prana I could as I approached the cliffs and formed a blueprint in my mind. Its emerald wings extended, its gold frame exploded to life, and its red satin seat broke against the wind with a deep whistle. I threw myself onto the platform leading up to the throne and took control of the Traced Vimana with a thought.

The Vimana was one of the most prana-consuming items I'd ever had the pleasure of Tracing, aside from Excalibur of course. I suppose it made sense; it was an ancient Indian item collected around the time that Uruk had risen to greatness and its third king, Dumuzid the Fisherman, had stepped up. It was a technological marvel, more advanced than any spacefaring technology modern civilization had thought up, and powered itself on the ambient mana of the atmosphere. Two golden wings, traced with emerald glass, held it aloft, while the main body resembled an Indian temple by the same name.

I twitched in shock. The fact that all Ancient Indians had actually known about prana and its two derivatives was incredible. Did that mean that most, if not all, Ancient Indians were Magi?

I threw the thought off and focused on reaching Vale. The Vimana was fast, faster than a jet, so the trip only took something around thirty seconds before I brought it to an abrupt stop at the airport. I immediately released the Trace, allowing the Vimana to unravel into golden threads while nobody was looking. I was half-tempted to check on Blake again, but I stopped myself in case something bad happened with Durandal.

The only reason I knew that street where she was crossing was because it had From Dust Till Dawn in the background, one of Ruby's favorite Dust shops. The old man who ran the shop was actually a veteran Huntsman that managed to live to the impressive (even for people on Earth) age of ninety-eight. He was also a surprisingly good conversationalist when you could convince him to talk.

"Blake?" I called, earning a few odd looks from the city folk around me. "Blake, where are you?"

I scanned the street. There were a few black-haired girls walking the streets, but none of them had the same style as Blake.

There.

Just as suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished. The familiar velvet-blake bow that topped Blake's head bobbed through the crowd. I spotted it again. Everything except my sight seemed to fade from my perception. I reached through the crowd, tapping a creamy white shoulder.

Blake's pure gold eyes flicked to my almost-amber ones, and she nearly spasmed. A small gasp resonated from her lips.

"Jaune?" she whispered. I smiled, and she quickly pulled me aside into an alley. "What are you doing here? Were you..." she bit her lip, looking anywhere but at my face. It was a familiar motion that almost reminded me of Sakura. "Were you looking for me?"

"Of course," I replied immediately. "We've all been worried about you, you know. I guess you missed it, but Weiss and I just had a duel to the death."

"What?! Why?" Blake really did spasm this time. She glared at me. I'll be the first one to admit it, but I really missed that glare. And her eyes, in general. After a moment, her eyes lightened as she realized I was kidding with her.

"Ugh, men," Blake muttered, but I could see a smile on her face. She leant up and grabbed me in a brief hug. "Thank you for that, Jaune. You didn't really kill her, did you? You're not that kind of person."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "That would be way too much to explain, and she wasn't doing anything bad except for being a general... Weiss. Besides, I think she has a little bit of good in her after all, no matter how small it is."

Blake smirked. "Yep, that's Jaune. Always looking for the best of people, even me. Even me..." she trailed off, touching her bow with tentative fingers.

Ah. I'd forgotten about her being a Faunus. Was it really something that bad? I knew that Faunus were discriminated against in Vale's society, but not that badly, and being a Huntsman-in-training like she was pretty much cancelled that out. Velvet herself was quite proud of her Faunus heritage, and the fact that her team was the top team in the second year even earned her a little passing respect among the citizens of Vale. Of course, there were always people like Cardin and his cronies who just despised Faunus, but for the most part, Blake had nothing to fear from keeping her ears in the open. So why...

"Hey, Blake." She looked up at me, inquisitive eyes glinting. I was distracted for a split second by the smell that was still wafting from her gently, like a caressing breeze. The sweet and syrupy scent of cherries floated around us both. I shook the thoughts from my head and refocused. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you afraid of showing your ears?"

Blake froze, and that's when I officially knew I did something wrong.

* * *

**And that's all he wrote! Honestly, this is more character development than anything else, and the next chapter's going to introduce the final bits of canon I've written, so after the next chapter it's all AU territory. **

**Let's get to reviews!**

**kamenheroHEISEI: I think the reason people do Holy Grail Wars in crossovers so much is because Fate/Stay Night and Fate/Zero is most of their experience with the Type-Moon franchise. I'm a bit more well-versed in the Type-Moon series than many writers, mostly because I read the novels every few weeks, but I personally like the concept of the Grail War. It's a short duration, allowing many chapters in the span of a few days or weeks, and it forces very opposing characters to interact with each other when they normally wouldn't do so. **

**ace of spades: Was there a link there? Because FanFiction's comment sections automatically delete URLs.**

**Guest: I didn't know that, actually. I haven't really kept up with Fate/Grand Order, but I did know that Cu Chulainn had a specialty with Runes. It seems to be the basis of his Magecraft in Grand Order too. Thanks for the info!**

**HE-SpecOps: It's not so much a hit on the armor as it is a hit on the unprotected head. Shirou's still human, so when he's not Reinforced a hit from a guy with E rank Strength when Aura-powered would definitely cause a concussion, possibly even knock someone out. **

** : Sorry, but it's going to be in a few chapters from now. Granted, the next two chapters take place over the course of a day and a half, but I digress. I do so love keeping my readers in suspense.**

**That seems to be it for now, so I'll see you guys next week. Also, Fate Recondite updated, and it's sooo good! Read it immediately if you haven't!**


	20. Roman Candles

**Chapter 20: Roman Candles**

"Well..." Blake said after a moment, gazing away. "It-it's just something I'm used to, you know? Wearing this all the time, and it's comfortable too..."

"If you don't want to tell me, that's okay," I quickly reassured her.

"No... No, it's fine." Blake looked around before turning back to me, clasping her fingers around my arm. "Can we get away from here first? There might be people who can overhear us."

I wondered why she wouldn't want people to overhear, but then again, I guessed that her personal life was hers to govern.

Blake moved her grip to my hand and pulled me out of the alley. We wandered for a few minutes, stopping at several places. Eventually, Blake led me to a small cafe at the corner of a few side streets. The person greeting us at the entrance was a proud Faunus, waving his golden tail in welcome.

"How can I help you lovebirds today?" he asked, a cheeky grin on his face. He had blonde hair that was mussed up from several hours' worth of standing in the wind. His face was angled and smooth, not unlike a monkey's but with far handsomer features. There was a pendant around his neck, the same dark grey color as his eyes, with a gold coin hanging on it. He wore an open white shirt that showed off his well-muscled body and a pair of jeans that were just ripped enough to be fashionable while also giving him a degree of open movement. At his waist was a pair of red, tube-like objects connected by a chain that draped over his tail.

"Table for two, please," I said, trying not to blush at his insinuation. Blake was doing a much better job at controlling her emotions than I was. "Preferably alone."

The Faunus boy's eyes brightened. "Oh, so it's like that," he whispered to me. This time, not even Blake could avoid the faintest of blushes from appearing on her face. "Don't worry, I think I can convince the manager to give you guys some alone time. Name's Sun, by the way. Sun Wukong."

"Jaune Arc, and this is Blake Belladonna." Sun winked and stepped into the cafe while we waited against the wall. Two minutes passed, while a small scattering of people passed by outside. Sun popped back into view, smiling.

"Alright, I got you guys a seat on the roof. There's nobody there right now, but I can't say the same about the people below you, so try and keep it down, okay?" He led us up a flight of creaky wooden stairs to a terrace outside. It was bright and clear. There were only three tables out there, and Blake immediately chose the one farthest from the street below. As I sat, Sun walked up to us once more. "Can I get you guys anything? Something to drink, perhaps?"

Blake looked him over, then said, "Black coffee."

"Green tea, if you have it," I said. Sun grinned and nodded before spinning on his heel and stepping out of the terrace. I turned to Blake, waiting.

She was struggling with herself. Let it be known that in the month that I'd spent with the black-haired beauty, I'd learned to read her very well, and the dart in her eyes and nervous lick of her lips was a clear indicator that she was feeling an internal struggle. Blake was definitely a girl who expressed her emotions in very subtle ways. After what amounted to about two minutes of nervous twitching, she cleared her throat.

"You've heard of the White Fang, right?" she asked. I nodded. They were a group of Faunus terrorists who fought for equal representation and rights. Before I'd come to Remnant, they were apparently a very peaceful protest group that gathered Faunus from all around the world. Somewhere along the line, however, they'd gone and become a fully-fledged terror organization hell-bent on fighting their way to freedom. They'd actually gotten into the news just a week before for taking a few dozen Huntsmen-in-training from Atlas hostage while they were on a training trip.

"Yeah, I have. I'm assuming you're related to them in some way?" Blake nodded, casting her eyes to the table. Sun burst through the door at that very moment, toting a tray with tea, coffee and a few biscuits. He set them down, looking put out that we weren't up here fooling around, and left again. Blake glared at the almost perfect reflection of her face in the gently swilling coffee.

Just before I was going to break the silence, she said, "I used to be a member. Back when they were a peaceful organization, one dedicated to convincing people through protests, not attacks. Back then, I actually thought they were making a difference. But then, the leader stepped down and a new one took up the cause. He was violent, ready to fight for his freedom, and he did just just escalated from there, and... well, here I am."

I sipped my tea. This was a perfectly good explanation of why she had reacted so awkwardly during the Faunus exchange with Weiss, but...

"Why don't you tell me your story," I said with a smile pressed against the rim of the teacup. She looked up, surprised, and made a small noise in her throat. The warm sunlight fell against her face in just the right way as to cast an ephemeral shadow that flittered across her brow with the breeze, blowing her locks and shadows this way and that.

"what do you mean? I alread-"

"No you didn't," I interrupted, taking a second sip. The tea was now half gone, and I could see just the faintest hint of a dreg at the bottom of the cup. Its bitter smell empowered my thoughts, allowing me to push onwards. "You told me about the history of the White Fang, in summary at that, and you told me that you were a member. That's about it. I didn't come here for them, Blake, I came here for you. I just want to help."

Blake continued staring at me, stunned confusion in her eyes. She eventually chuckled; a rueful, bitter laugh that depressed me. "You're right. I'm sorry for deceiving you, Jaune. I guess I'll start in the beginning then.

"I used to live in Vacuo. It was really beautiful there, you know. Most of the place was a flat savannah, but you could see every star in the sky and you could spot a Grimm a dozen miles away. There were these little trees dotting the ground, and they had every color you could imagine staining their leaves..." She smiled wistfully. "I was just a kid. My mom was a grocer, and my dad was a paralegal for a law firm specializing in Faunus cases. We made some decent money, and I lived in a small townhouse. But then... One day, there was a Grimm attack. A Colossus broke through the walls around the town and went berserk. My parents both died in the attack. After that, I spent my time homeless, just wandering around the countryside and eating whatever I could. The White Fang found me about a year after the attack. They took me in. I felt like I belonged there, and with the protests being so peaceful, it wasn't that bad. It felt like I was actually doing something. I made some friends, I got a job... I was happy."

Her eyes dimmed, becoming dull pools of gold. "But that was back then. More recently, around four years ago, the old leader died. I met her once. She was a nice lady, always giving little treats out to the kids. The one that stepped up, though, was one of her brothers. He was a militaristic person, always ranting about how we should actively battle for our freedom instead of 'holding signs and shouting to thin air'. More and more people began to side with him, since our old leader was the one conducting many of the negotiations with the world's political leaders. The new leader didn't want anything to do with them, so he canceled all of the meetings and encouraged attacks on human settlements.

"I'll admit that I was all for it in the beginning. I was so enamored with the White Fang and its goal that I just mindlessly followed every order I was given. I just wanted to be free and equal to humans, and at first I would do it by any means possible. I continued doing that for three years, just going on hijacking missions and small-scale takeovers. I was one of the best in my area, along with another guy named Adam."

"The one that confronted you in Forever Fall," I surmised.

She nodded. "Yes, that's him. At one time, I would've called us friends, but he always cared more about the White Fang than he did about other people. Adam was a cold man at the best of times, and that was one of the reasons he was seen as the best in Vacuo: because he would do any job so long as it benefitted the White Fang."

"So the two of you went on more missions together," I said slowly, trying to fit the pieces she was giving me. "You knew more about him than anyone else. Was he really a horrible person?"

"No." Her reply was curt and immediate. "In the end, Adam always cared about something. He just didn't care about what really mattered, like the people he was killing. I... I was actually a little afraid of him, you know."

"Hmm?" Really? The ever-indomitable Blake Belladonna was afraid of someone? I would have pegged her for having a random irrational fear, but not something like that. I wondered what Adam had done to make her so wary around him.

"He never cared about them," she continued, putting my question to rest. "You normally feel bad about killing someone, right? Not him. He was so stone-faced, even when he killed kids. They were just kids..."

She twitched, and I reached over the table to trap her hand in mine. She gave me a grateful, teary smile and squeezed it. "The White Fang got to be too much for me. Instead of keeping my ears out with pride, I started hiding them, trying to fit into human society. Most people accepted that it was just a fashion statement, but Adam and my superiors got suspicious. Eventually, he and I were sent on a hijack of a Schnee Dust train. I broke off the caboose and left him behind, then hiked my way to Vale and applied at Beacon. The rest you know."

"I see..." So the bow wasn't to hide her, but as a remnant of her choices. "It's your choice, but I still think you'd look better without the bow. Besides, it adds a few inches to your height, and I enjoy lording over you."

My attempt at a joke was enough to get her to crack a smile, even through the haze of memory she was lost in. She lightly batted my arm from across the table. "Jerk," she muttered, although the bite was replaced by humor. We were silent again.

"You guys done?" Sun asked a few minutes later, peeking through the door. I jumped. I hadn't even known he had been there, and although my senses weren't the greatest without Reinforcement, my prana smell should have been able to detect his signature monkey-scent. "I couldn't help but overhear your tragic tale, Miss Belladonna," and here he gave her a theatrical bow, "and I think I might have some information that could be of use to you. You see, I'm a recent arrival here in Vale, and while I was at the docks I overheard some very interesting information involving the White Fang and a Schnee freighter..."

* * *

"I still don't know how you managed to rope us into this," Blake grumbled to Sun. The three of us were perched on a series of cargo crates that overlooked Vale's seaborne docks. Sun was crouched in front of us, his and Blake's impressive night vision scoping out the area ahead of us. I had EMIYA's bow out, ready to Trace at a moment's notice. The sea glittered in the broken moon's light, illuminating everything to just a shade before pitch black.

Sun had told us of a possible heist by the White Fang that was supposed to be attempted tonight. Blake had initially been skeptical of the claim (and I admit that at the time, I was too), but Sun had thrown in that just checking it out wouldn't have hurt, and so the three of us resolved to regroup at the docks at night.

"Wait, I hear something," Blake hissed suddenly. Even with my Reinforcement, I couldn't match her superb hearing, so I sat back and idly fitted a Traced sword-arrow to the string. Blake's ears twitched under their bow, and her head snapped to the right.

I heard it a bit later, the familiar hum of an airship began to thrum through the docks, rattling the hardened wood of the crates below us. The airship was a standard Bullhead, but it was easy to tell that this was was equipped for transport rather than the attack craft that Vale regularly rented our from Beacon. It touched ground with nary a sound but a hum.

That was the downside to aircraft that was decades ahead of any other technology: it made them ridiculously hard to track.

The doors opened, and a host of Faunus swarmed out. Each one was dressed the same, in a white hoodie, black vest and jeans. A gunmetal grey mask was present on every face. They were equipped with standard swords (each one made in a factory, and therefore a few grades below anything made with such precision as a human hand could lend) and a gun apiece."Secure the crates!" someone shouted, and I only just managed to leap away from the pile as it was approached by a trio of burly-looking White Fang members. They began to haul away the boxes one by one. Someone really ought to have told them that those crates were filled with some incredibly fragile Dust, because they just tossed them in the ship like they were empty cardboard cases.

"So it really was the White Fang..." I heard Blake mumble from my right. I trained my arrow on the closest target, just in case he were to notice us.

"Did you really expect it not to be?" Sun asked, looking affronted at the idea of them not believing his information. We ignored him and looked closer.

"Alright, you animals, let's pick up the pace!" another voice called from inside the airship. My aim shot to the familiar voice. A redhead was stepping leisurely down the ramp to the docks, swinging his cane along the way.

"Roman Torchwick," I whispered, smirking to myself. Heh, just my Luck. It was two half-trained Faunus and a Faker with a particularly useful Reality Marble against a group of barely-trained Faunus and one of the most powerful criminals in Remnant's recorded history.

"Why don't you do any of this work, human?" one of the more brave Faunus protested, dropping his box with a loud thud. I could almost smell the Dust getting ready to explode inside the crate. Ice, if the minty sting in my nostrils was correct.

Roman walked up to the Faunus, examining him thoroughly. "Well, aren't you the smart one, hmm?" he teased, leaning close. Then, in a motion that I could barely track, he whipped his cane across the two feet of space between its resting position and the Faunus' face, completely shattering the man's mask, then cheekbone, then mandible. He went sailing into the water, where he laid, face-down, bobbing in the pearly waves. Sun bit back a wince to my left.

Roman looked around, daring anyone else to challenge the action. "It's obvious, you nincompoops! I'm the one paying you, so you do the work and you get the cash. If you don't do the work, you can get the cane instead. Your choice."

There was a horrified silence that blanketed the almost-black docks. The Faunus moved around with renewed vigor, literally radiating terror. Blake moved, darting forward with just a simple extension of the legs. Sun followed behind.

Meanwhile, I had already gone ahead and made my motion. I fired one sword, then a second and a third, completely trapping Roman in a warning cage of steel. I used the full extent of my Reinforced legs and stepped.

I was in front of Roman before either Blake or Sun. He looked up at me, a bit surprised. There was an impressed grimace on his face as he looked me up and down. "If it isn't the redhead I faced off against back at Marte," he said. "You've grown a bit, and you hair is much more auburn now. How does it feel to be part of the Soulless Club?"

"It's going to feel a lot better when I revoke your membership," I retorted. He laughed.

"Yep, you're the same kid. I could only ever have fun when fighting someone so serious." I Traced Durandal and got into a ready position. He simply waved his cane, and flicked it outwards. The handle dipped down to grab each one of my Traced swords, pulling them out of the ground like it was butter and hurling them towards me with a move that seemed like an afterthought. I spun away from the first, caught the second mid-throw and used it to split the third in two. The pieces caught themselves and shot back at Roman.

Or rather, behind Roman.

He easily dodged them, only to yelp and jump away when the two halves impacted the extremely fragile Ice Dust at his heels. The box erupted with light, becoming a miniature ice palace that quickly encroached upon the concrete of the docks. I slashed a few of them in the approximate shape of the sword, feeling more than seeing them become swords in my power's sight. I shot them as well, then Altered Durandal and fired it as well. Its ever-sharp edge spiralled through the air with a piercing scream, just barely nicking Roman's jacket as he weaved around the hail of swords.

Then he regained his bearings, and I was forced into the defense instead. He fired shot after shot, gradually moving in closer to reach me with his cane. It was different than the first one; this was shaped more like a traditional barbershop cane, and it went better with his hat than the last one did. It seemed that true Huntsmen were able to combine fashion and function with perfect balance.

Eventually, Roman got into reach with his cane, and we discarded ranged attacks in favor of striking each other. His style was based on using strong, flowing swings that blended perfectly into each other, no matter what direction I managed to deflect to. He also seemed to have a fondness for breaking bones, considering that I couldn't see an edge anywhere on the cane. That was both good and bad: it was good in that the blows would be less likely to exsanguinate me, but they would also be able to shatter my bones and give me some nasty bruises. In some ways, bruising was even worse than a tear or cut, mostly in that if you bruised a part of your body enough, it would literally stop moving and lock up. Meanwhile, you could still move a cut muscle if the slash wasn't too deep, just at the cost of more pain and less blood in your body.

Even though I was good with any weapon I came across, I wasn't a master of any of them, save for Shisui, and the fabled katana would be useless if it couldn't block the heavy blows. Katanas were good cutting weapons, but they had absolutely minimal stopping power, and I wasn't fast enough to both dodge Roman's attacks and retaliate with a few well-placed cuts.

In that case, it was time to resort to Archer.

I shattered the copy of Durandal I'd Traced just a few seconds earlier and replaced it with Kanshou and Bakuya. I moved smoothly into a position that Roman instinctively took advantage of. The hole in my guard, exposing my shoulder, was abruptly closed just as Roman's cane reached it, deflected by Bakuya, while Kanshou leapt up and cut lightly into his left cheek. He leapt back before dashing in again. I left a small spot in between my shoulder blades open during a spin meant to knock away his free hand. When he tried to slam his cane down on it, I abruptly stopped and reversed my rotation. Bakuya and Kanshou both collided with his cane, managing to wedge themselves about an inch into the metal. I frowned and Traced a new set, but by the time the old ones had unfurled into threads of light, Roman had recovered and was aiming a deadly blow to my head. I ducked and swept at his legs. When he jumped, I took my chance.

"Trace Bullet," I mumbled, feeling the surge of prana react to my original Aria. The swords appeared behind my back by the dozens. Eventually, a wall of steel, hundreds of swords in number, was rotating at my sides. I could see Roman's eyes widen under all of that ridiculous eyeliner he had. I grinned.

"Continuous Fire!"

The bulwark of swords shot forwards, threatening to end all life in a twenty meter radius in front of me. I could barely see Roman in the reflected web of moonlight cast by the swords, but I managed to watch him raise his cane before the glow of combined moonlight and exploding Dust crystals blinded me.

Around me, the fighting stopped. It seemed that Blake and Sun were finished with their battles. My assumptions proved correct a moment later when they appeared beside me. Sun didn't even bother hiding the excited look on his face. I idly stored away his weapons, Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang, inside my memory.

When the light faded and my swords disintegrated, I expected Roman to be dead, slumped against the walls of the warehouses, or at least severely maimed. Instead, however, I was greeted with a less than pleasant sight. Dust damage was everywhere- ice shards had buried themselves in walls and concrete, scorch marks stained every available surface, and chunks of metal and wood had been turned into cracked and blackened stone. There was a thin layer of pure water seeping across the floor of the docks, smothering the small fires that had sprung up and threatened to activate even more Dust. In the middle of all the damage was Roman Torchwick, a near-opaque orange barrier shaped almost exactly like a pumpkin surrounding his form. He hadn't even taken a scratch.

"Aha, now that's what I like to see!" he exclaimed, releasing the pumpkin energy he'd produced from seemingly nowhere. "If direct attacks don't work, go for a widespread shot that activates the Dust around your target. That would work on any half-trained Huntsman, but for someone like me... Well, let's just say you're out of your league, kid."

He looked around and whistled. "You did some damage, too. If I didn't have all the Aura that I do, I'd be a smear on the wall right now. Cinder is not gonna be happy about this, but I've already said too much. How shall I deal with you munchkins...?"

Out of nowhere, a sword darted out of the air and very nearly impaled Roman through the stomach. He dodged it at the last second, twirling on the spot and aiming his cane at a spot in the distance. With my Reinforced eyes, I could see the hints of red and green standing on top of the building looming over us. Ruby was here, but who was the person beside her? The figure was clearly feminine, and it had a shockingly orange head of hair that Ren definitely didn't have. Her dress was grey and green, styled like something you'd see in a science fiction movie. The sword at Roman's feet retracted, settling in her hand. Another half dozen rose out of... her back?

Indeed, they came to life out of her back, each one connected by a hair-thin string. Another ally?

"Now that wasn't very nice, Red," he called to Ruby. He shot off a few more blasts with his cane. Ruby didn't react in time, but quite frankly, she didn't need to. The orange-haired girl exploded into motion, deflecting each and every shot with her swords while another two were shot at Roman. He dodged them both, but the mystery girl simply used them to carry herself onto the battlefield. Her other swords followed.

I took advantage of Roman's momentary distraction and slashed at him with Kanshou and Bakuya. He wasn't a world-class fighter and criminal for nothing, though; he deflected my blows with his cane while kicking the girl in the stomach, completely halting her velocity. I spun and attacked from the other side.

He blocked that as well. This time, the girl recovered and slashed at him as well. Together, we closed in on Roman, our swords flashing with glittering light.

Roman didn't look very fazed by our combined assault, but his reaction got a hair slower at facing two enemies at once. Halfway through an overhead swing of Bakuya, I released its form and immediately replaced it with Durandal. The razorlike steel bit into the exact same spot that I'd managed to cut into the cane's steel earlier. It completely severed.

Without his weapon, Roman was momentarily defenseless, and both the mystery girl and I took advantage of that. I managed to cut into his bicep with Bakuya, and the girl stabbed forward, tearing a bit of his shoulder to shreds. Then he recovered, and the two of us were back on the defensive.

The message in his intent was clear: Roman wasn't playing around anymore, and the two of us would pay if we tried to get in the way.

Thankfully, Blake didn't try to interfere in the fight. Whether or not she realized that we were all completely outclassed was a different story. Roman was just as good of an unarmed fighter as he was a swordsman. He effortlessly blocked and dodged each and every one of our slashes and stabs. I saw an opportunity somewhere between a spin and a roundhouse kick to my temple. If Roman didn't have that cane, he wouldn't be able to block the weapon I had the most experience in.

I Traced Shisui and slashed outwards in an picture-perfect Iaido movement. Roman was caught off guard by the sudden change in weapons, and I managed to score a small cut on his cheek before he compensated. Apparently, he'd seen a lot of katanas before, because his style changed to seamlessly shrug off all of my attacks. The mystery girl cut and stabbed in a whirling tornado of swords, her style obviously focused around overwhelming her opponent with raw power.

Huh. I never thought I'd used the term "tornado of swords" on anyone but myself.

The two of us combined were able to drive Roman back at least a few feet, but it wouldn't last forever. with my Reinforcement, I wouldn't get tired as easily, but eventually I would start to wear out. the girl beside me probably wouldn't last as long, and Roman definitely had the training required to outlast either of us. He was fast, strong, and skilled- basically, the kind of person that Archer's style was best suited for. The only problem is, he wasn't orienting his style on attack, only defense. He could easily kill us now, so why didn't he?

"That's quite enough, Roman." My question was answered by a woman that suddenly appeared behind him in a flicker of orange flame. She was tall, with coiffed black hair and mesmerizing orange eyes. Her dress was almost scantily short, but there was Dust hanging off her everywhere, from her anklet to her earring and even a bracelet clasped around her left wrist. She looked over us uninterestedly before her eyes returned to Roman.

"Gah, Cinder!" he exclaimed, simultaneously blocking both of our swords and looking back at her. "What are you doing here? Did you get the rest of the Dust?"

I only just then noticed the lack of Dust exploding around us. Most of the crates had been placed in a pile aboard the Bullhead. My eyes flicked to the woman again. She was gesturing to the pilot's seat. "I do have them. Although, it's easy to see why you've been held up for so long. The world's first synthetic human and a very interesting swordsman. Tell me, boy, what do I see on your hand?"

"You're kidding me," I hissed. Another one?!

"Ah, so you do recognize your Command Seals!" she exclaimed delightedly, clapping her hands together. "Have you summoned your Servant yet? My Saber is quite the specimen."

"I haven't," I admitted. Somewhere in the back of my mind, some hope that Saber would be returned to me vanished with a crash of dread. Of course, I could still summon Arturia as a Rider, but it wouldn't be quite the same, and she definitely wouldn't remember anything about me if the conditions weren't perfect. No, I would have to settle for another Servant, one that more accurately matched my personality.

"Oh well, you better summon before tomorrow morning," she said. Wait, what?

"I'm going to be sending my Saber to Beacon Academy tomorrow, and I'll have him challenge the strongest person there. Of course, that would be the headmaster, wouldn't it? It will be so satisfying to watch his dying body bleed out on the pavement while his precious students watch on."

My blood ran cold at that statement. Despite what people thought of the Ritual Circle to summon a Servant, it was a lot more work than it looked like. First of all, the Circle had to be in its environment for a minimum of three days to pull mana from the air and ground around it. It was specifically designed not to active unless that prerequisite as passed and it absolutely would not accept od until it was ready to activate. Moreover, even if I was able to summon a Servant right away, there would probably be a major difference in the skill levels between it and her Saber, if she was speaking so highly of it. Ozpin would definitely be the best bet for Beacon Academy at that point. Despite the fact that he was human, he was easily the most skilled human I'd ever seen, and he could probably match Archer blow for blow at that point.

So all of Beacon's hopes were riding on Ozpin and, if he ended up falling, me and the other students? That wasn't as good of a chance as I liked, not by a long shot. The woman waved a hasty goodbye as she, along with Roman and the few Faunus that were still alive, boarded the Bullhead. I could have shot it down with a well-placed sword or two, but if there was a Servant coming to the academy, then I'd need to recover all the prana I'd lost in the exchange between us and the criminals.

Blake, Sun and I glanced at each other for a second before unanimously coming to a decision. We decided to walk back to Beacon together, taking a Traced Vimana when we couldn't climb up. All the while, Blake left me to my thoughts, a firm grip on my hand the only sign of her continued existence. Sun was observant enough to recognize that whatever he'd heard me discussing with the woman was a sensitive subject, and so kept silent. He broke off from us with only a small goodbye when we reached the commons area. Chances were that he was going to find some hole to stow away in for the night, and if I'd been able to find my voice, I would have invited him to our room. Blake stayed at my side the entire time. Her presence was comforting, a stagnancy in the turmoil that was my mind automatically reverting to its state during the Grail War. I fell asleep the instant I hit the bed, while Blake climbed up to her own, doing the same.

My hand hurt a little from its place halfway up the bunk, but I didn't mind so much.

* * *

"What do you mean Ozpin's left?"

This was not a good time for him to be leaving. The sun was just beginning to peek out over the ocean to the east, and Saber could land at the academy within minutes. Glynda glared at me, opening her door just a little bit further.

"As I've already told you, Mr. Arc, the headmaster left just an hour ago to attend a summit meeting between the leaders of the four main Huntsman training schools. If you have a problem, I will be happy to hear it, but otherwise he won't be back for two days at the least."

Gods, this wasn't good! Glynda and the other teachers wouldn't stand a chance against a Servant. They would underestimate them at first and that would lead to a swift and painful death. Even when they went all out, they were trained to fight mostly mindless beings of darkness, not a smart, strong and fast human with an unquestionable talent in the arts of the sword and a mind capable of utilizing amazing strategies. Saber would utterly decimate them.

"Dammit, Ozpin!" I snapped, startling Glynda. "Of all the times..." I turned back to my professor, bowing low. "I apologize for the inconvenience, Professor. I'll leave you to your rest. Gods know you need it, with all the crap we put you through."

I left her at her door, mumbling all the while and planning things out in my head. Hopefully the woman's Servant would be one of the weaker ones, but if not-

A resounding explosion filled the halls around me, and a blast of dust and smoke billowed from the courtyard. A roar followed, like something inhuman.

"And... showtime."

I calmly stepped forward, around the crowd of gathering students, across the alabaster steps, and onto the ruined courtyard. The higher-tiered students were being thrown left and right, thankfully not being killed but still maimed enough to be useless for a month. The person tossing them around was massive. He stood at around three meters tall, give or take a few centimeters. Muscle rippled across his form like hulking ocean waves. Long black hair draped across his colossal shoulders, strangely complementing his olive eyes and shaved eyebrows. In his hand was his sword- well, it couldn't be called a sword, not exactly. Instead it was a slab of rock, crudely shaped into a cross between a sword and an axe. That was the same sword I'd used several times before.

"Bring out your strongest warrior!" the Saber bellowed, tossing aside another few students and circling around the fountain. He made contact with each and every person staring at him. "Who out here dares to face the might of a Servant?"

I once again moved my feet forward, feeling not entirely in control of my own body at the moment. The Saber's eyes flicked to mine.

"So, you're foolish enough to try and challenge me, boy?" he asked. His eyes suddenly narrowed, like he was remembering something obscure. "Hold. You look familiar. Were you, perchance, part of the Fifth Holy Grail War of Fuyuki City? Your face... that determination is admirable."

"I'm surprised you remember," I said, honestly flabbergasted. "I thought you'd been too far muddled to even coherently recognize anything other than your Master." I held out a hand, and in my hand another sword formed. Its hilt was made of blue and red enamel, traced with gold and silver. The blade was pure silver, shining with an inner light. The purity residing within the blade was easy to see. I leveled the point at the hulking Saber's neck.

"It's been a while, Berserker... or should I say, Herakles."


	21. Broken Phantasm

**Chapter 21: Broken Phantasm**

So in the space of one day, I almost dueled a fellow student to the point of serious injury, tried to challenge one of the most dangerous criminals currently living on Remnant, and maybe brought the most impossibly unlucky Servant I could possibly face to the academy. All in all, it was a pretty average day with me and my E ranked Luck.

In all seriousness, the only person I would be less of a match against would be Amaterasu, or possibly Samson. Herakles was the pinnacle of the word "hero", a true icon in all of the world's superstitions. Even without his power influenced by the belief of the people around him, he was still horrifically strong. Screw me;

Ozpin wouldn't stand a chance against this guy.

"So, you fancy yourself the strongest," Herakles mused. He hefted his Axe-Sword. "You're powerful, boy, but in the end a Faker is still a Faker. You have no chance against the genuine article without your Saber."

"Jaune!" I glanced back for only a fraction of a second. The rest of my team was standing at the forefront of the crowd, looking utterly horrified. I vaguely recognized my Codex in Ruby's tight grip. "The hell are you doing?" Ren snapped.

"Sorry, guys," I replied, turning back to Herakles. As I channeled prana into Caliburn, the Sword in the Stone that Chooses Kings, its blade leaked white light that traced in the air like an afterimage. "I've got this, so just stand back. You don't have a chance of beating someone like him."

"That doesn't mean you do, either!" Blake shouted. I paused, mid-step, at the tone in her voice. She was desperate.

Then time resumed, and I was walking forward once again.

"On the contrary, puny creature," Herakles thundered. He stooped down to my eye level and examined me for a bit before rising back to his full height. "Shirou Emiya has the best chance of beating me out of everyone here." There was an implied "He'll still die, though," in there somewhere. "Now clear out, the lot of you, unless you wish to be obliterated."

Everyone but the teachers and my team moved. Blake gave me another dizzyingly worried look shot through with confusion and irritation, but I managed to shrug it off. Herakles gestured for me to say my graces.

"Listen, guys," I told them lowly. "Chances are I can't beat him. He's way above my level, and without Berserker's taint, he's much smarter than the level I'm comfortable with. There's a reason he was considered a hero in his lifetime."

"So that's someone like Lancer?" Ruby asked, snapping open the Codex. The few bits of information that actually pertained to Herakles and not Berserker were listed in the book, along with his updated appearance and the details on his Noble Phantasm. "I don't have anything on his stats, though..."

"He's in a different state than he was in Berserk state," I explained. "His stats will probably clear up as we fight. I want someone to call Ozpin and get him here as fast as possible. No questions."

Oobleck's Scroll had snapped open before I'd even finished my sentence. When Ozpin's face appeared on the holographic screen, he exchanged a fast string of words that was mirrored by the grey-haired man. Oobleck silently turned his Scroll towards Berserker and I. Even through the blue tint of the screen, I could see Ozpin's face pale.

"Shirou, how badly are you outmatched?" he asked.

"He's the worst possible choice I could have to face," I admitted. "You remember when I was talking about the Servant that could level buildings with his bare

hands? This is him."

"I'll be right there. Ironwood, prepare your fastest jet and-" the rest of his words were cut off as the Scroll shut. Oobleck gave me a grave look.

"Good luck, young man. If you are to fail, we will hold him off for as long as we can, but I fear it may not be enough."

"Nothing's ever enough when you're dealing with a Servant," I told him sardonically.

Now, it was time for battle.

I snapped my eyes to Herakles, who was waiting patiently by the shattered fountain. He stood straight as I approached, gleaming Caliburn in hand. "If you're done," he offered. I nodded.

Then, with as much speed as I could muster, I struck out.

Caliburn exploded into shimmering golden flames. I shot off at speeds that would make a veteran Huntsman gape, already swinging. The force of the blow, combined with my Reinforced Agility and Strength, sent a shockwave through the clearing.

It was effortlessly batted aside by Herakles' A+ Strength stat.

I was sending stumbling into a nearby pillar, faltering for only a fraction of a second before taking off again. This time, Herakles slammed his Axe-Sword down on my head, and it was only the Tracing of another Caliburn and near-instantly Breaking it that saved my life. The combined force of the two holy swords crashing against the tremulous force of Herakles' Strength shattered the tiles beneath us, but passed most of the force in a cone around me. Even after two exchanges, two things were clear to the both of us: that he was infinitely stronger than I was and that I didn't have nearly enough prana to last even ten minutes unless I went all out.

I am the bone of my sword.

The familiar feeling of pure prana erupting in my muscles filled me. I absently flexed a hand while Berserker lumbered forward with the loping grace befitting that of a legendary warrior. Just before he swung again, bringing supersonic death upon my form-

Steel is my body and fire is my blood.

I brought Caliburn up to bear and met his blow. The Prana Burst in my arms rippled outwards, completely stopping Herakles' blow in its tracks.

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. Instead he swung again, this time no more than a blur. The Prana Burst bubbled up again, along with the sharp pain of overextending my Magic Circuits and burning through a good thirtieth of my prana. Blocking him was costing too much, and even with Jaune's impressive Aura levels, there was only so much of the burden of over-Reinforcing that it could take before it burnt out and my body disintegrated. I only had the advantage of being able to match his Noble Phantasm and the powerful healing provided to me by Avalon, but even that wouldn't save me if I was pulped down the middle.

I barely dodged a terrifyingly fast strike that whistled just centimeters away from my nose and leapt back far enough to avoid the shockwave. In the same moment, Herakles turned on a dime and shot after me, attacking again. I met him with another sword, this time a Broken Caladbolg that barely managed to halt the force of his Axe-Sword. I Traced Gae Bolg, the incantation already on my tongue. I jumped high, high enough that even if he leapt after me he wouldn't be able to reach me in time.

"Gae... BOLG!" I roared, thrusting the spearpoint down. The familiar lightning bolt of red light arced across the clearing, but before it had the chance to realize it missed and reverse causality, Herakles smirked.

"Coat of the Great Lion!" he called. Around him, golden threads of light wove together, creating a garment unlike any I'd ever seen. It was a cape, except capes usually didn't have pure, golden steel plates extending from their fronts that latticed across his body. I Analyzed it and attempted to store as much of the Divine Armament's protective power into my memory as possible. I didn't even get halfway done with the process before Gae Bolg's all-killing strike exploded in a burst of crimson light against the Nemean Lion's armor.

I waited for the light to clear, but Herakles had other ideas. When he next appeared, he was high in the air his Noble Phantasm in tatters on his shoulder; it seemed that while Gae Bolg could pierce damn near anything, it could still be negated by a Nemean Lion's coat. He fell, using his immense weight to boost the force of his blow. I bolted to the side. Even though I'd successfully managed to dodge it, the shockwave still sent me sailing through the air and into a pit caused by his last jump. I scrambled away.

While Herakles wasn't the smartest of Heroes, he was definitely one of the strongest, and his blistering abilities made the difference moot.

"Come on, Jaune!" I heard Blake cry. "Get it over with already!"

"Easier said than done," I muttered, before cursing and leaping away from another insanely fast swing. I felt like hitting myself; no talking during a fight was one of my first rules, and I wasn't about to break one of my own regulations.

I was really hoping I could save my aces, but when two minutes had passed and Herakles had exhausted another eighth of my prana just by forcing me to defend myself, I realized that I needed to take my game up several notches.

I have created over a thousand blades.

The third line of the Aria echoed throughout the clearing, and I saw Herakles' mouth twitch upwards into something that, given time, sunlight and tender care, might have grown into a smile had he not cut it down so quickly. I felt the lurching weight of the Axe-Sword in my hand for only a second before the A+ Strength stat that came with the sword made it lighter than a feather.

When Herakles struck next, I didn't roll to the side or bring up a hasty block. Instead, I moved a moment before he did, so that by the time his form reached mine we were evenly matched on our wide swings. The two swords collided. Instead of me being shorn in two, like most of my small crowd had expected, I met Herakles evenly, completely halting his forward momentum. I felt something in my hand snap, but I didn't have any time to think about other than to point it at the overcharged Avalon before blocking another one of Herakles' swings. He smiled.

"Now this is a fight worth fighting!" he crowed as he continued his onslaught. "My Master supplies me with a great deal of energy, but nothing on this world can compare to the simple rush of adrenaline! You truly are a great human, Shirou Emiya!"

I remained silent. I knew from experience that Herakles was a proud figure, almost as much as Gilgamesh. During his few moments of sanity following the fatal blow Saber had dealt him, he had complimented me on my use of Caliburn and marvelled at how such a Faker could assist in defeating such a great hero.

Personally, I thought Saber did all the work, but the fact remained that if Herakles felt enough of a challenge, he would push himself past his limits at the risk of burning through his prana faster, just like a Broken Phantasm.

Unaware of loss, unaware of gain.

The fourth line of my Reality Marble's Aria resonated within me, and this time I began to feel the internal changes. My body's senses were sharpening to a point that could be compared to a katana's edge, while my skin hardened to iron and my muscles became akin to the sinewy snap of leather. It would be much harder to kill me after that.

That wasn't to say that I wouldn't be crushed or blown to pieces when Herakles struck me. He flashed in front of me, using an Agility that was comparable to Lancer's, and struck at my head. I brought up my iron-hard arm to deflect it, and while I did manage to block the Axe-Sword, it cost me another twentieth of my prana and a deep cut on my forearm. I instantly retaliated with a slash that caught him on the head and sent him tumbling.

It wasn't as good as taking his life, but he definitely felt it. I could see the bleeding temple he sported, and he wobbled for a moment before righting myself.

"Wonderful," he praised again. "I think it's time I brought this up to a new level of combat. I only hope you'll be impressed with me."

He stopped mid-blow, then his grip tightened on the Axe-Sword and it promptly exploded.

Or rather, its shell exploded.

What I previously thought to be pure marble- no, what previously was pure marble- was now laying across the battlefield in wafer-thin chunks, steaming with the force of ejection. In its place was a gleaming bronze copy of the Axe-Sword, only much more refined and far less likely to pulp someone rather than cleanly bisect them. I Analyzed. This was Nine Lives: The Shooting Hundred Heads, the legendary set of bow and arrows that had simultaneously slain the Hydra's hundred heads in a single swipe, converted into the form of a sword.

He swung, and a shockwave of wind tumbled forth. I leaned to the side.

When I did, the burst of cleaving wind gouged straight through the pillar behind me, and the one behind that, and the one behind that until nine layers of meter-thick wall had been rent asunder. I felt myself paling. He had something like that in addition to his monstrous stats?!

I Traced the Nine Lives in my free hand. My temporary A+ Strength doubled in size, shooting to A+++, but I wouldn't be able to handle that kind of power for even a twenty seconds without straining the very last reserves of my soul. I shot into motion, bringing both up to bear and slamming them down upon Herakles' own Nine Lives.

I pounded him into the ground, and for a brief moment I felt an ecstasy that could only be experienced when one overcomes an impossible obstacle.

Then Herakles was on his feet, and the fighting continued. Everytime he struck at me, I returned to force twice over and left several deep gouges on his body, even cutting off his left arm at one point. Barely fifteen seconds had passed before I felt the Aura protecting my arms from their own Strength unraveling, but they were easily the most powerful fifteen seconds of my life.

Reluctantly, I de-Traced the stone copy of Nine Lives and brought the bronze one to bear. When the two edges, original and fake, came together, neither dulled. Rather, they grated upon one another, becoming even sharper until they were both able to cleave steel with the barest of movements. By making my own copy more powerful, I had to make Herakles' more powerful as well, and that was a huge risk, but a risk I had to take if I had even the slightest hope of killing that stone-skinned Hero.

I have withstood pain to create weapons.

The fifth line spewed forth almost of its own accord, and once again my body became stronger, faster, capable of reaching C rank Agility and B- Strength with my full Reinforcement. My prana was over half gone at that point, most of it being channeled into Prana Bursts and the summonings of the various Broken Phantasms that I'd summoned during the battle. Thankfully, with every line of my Aria the cost of Breaking, Tracing and Bursting became easier, but I still couldn't afford to fight for much longer before I gave out. Five minutes had passed at that point, and Herakles hadn't even begun to show signs of tiring.

In an act of breaking my own rules, I snapped to Blake, "When is Ozpin going to be here?!"

She looked startled, as if breaking free of some trance, but she hastily grabbed my Scroll and snapped the screen open. She shot off a few texts, presumably to Ozpin, and looked up. "Six minutes," she called back.

I honestly didn't know if I could hold out for six minutes. I could definitely fight him off for three more, maybe four if I was lucky enough, but six was bordering the impossible.

Luckily for me, I was usually good at doing the impossible.

I checked my stats with a copy of the Codex that I managed to Trace into existence before Herakles nearly took my head off. My Luck had shot all the way up to C- rank, courtesy of Unbridled Heroism. I realized that Guardian Knight was also in effect, since to someone on the caliber of Herakles, my team did count as weak bystanders. My stats had exploded in size, going from around the D range to just below B with my Reinforcement and my Skills.

I activated a Traced Prana Burst once more, and I watched with wonder as my stats briefly, just for a fraction of a fraction of an instant, matched Herakles' perfectly. Of course, I wouldn't be able to do that constantly, maybe only twice or thrice before I collapsed from exhaustion, but it was still an utterly amazing sight.

Yet these hands will never hold anything.

I grinned and hefted Nine Lives once more, facing off against Herakles. This was getting easier. By no means easy, of course, but easier.

* * *

"What's he doing?" Ruby asked, observing the fight with interest. She, Ren, Blake and the teachers had retreated to a semi-safe distance and were alternating between heated discussions about whether or not Jaune would survive and simply watching with slack-jawed awe.

Ruby herself was trying, and failing, to pick her jaw up off the floor. Some of the maneuvers Jaune had performed during his dodges were things she wouldn't have even dreamed of doing! And when he began summoning all sorts of weapons she hadn't seen before, from that giant slab of stone to its bronzed counterpart and that sword that seemed so regal, so pure, so unfettered by worldly plights. It was enough to make her weak at the knees.

"I'm not quite sure," Blake admitted, scanning the area with her binoculars. Jaune suddenly took off, clashing against the giant with unnatural strength. Both of their forces bottomed out, though she could see his feet shift ever so slightly and his arms bulged in protest. The Aura flickering around his skin seemed to glow just a bit brighter, as if it were overpowering the prana in his body. He Traced another dozen swords and threw them one by one, trying to distract the monstrous figure. The massive man merely swatted them out of the air with a beefy hand and continued with his charge towards her partner. "He looks like he's trying to match that... that thing. How is he doing that?"

"Jaune's abilities certainly are strange," Ren said, sitting serenely on top of a crumbling pillar. The only hint of worry in his posture was the slicker of tension in his eyes and the way he rolled his left wrist every few seconds. "He said he can copy everything about a sword's abilities. Perhaps the one he is using now augments one's strength?"

"How would that be possible, though?" Blake shot back, irritated. "There's no Dust in the world that just naturally boosts someone's strength by several orders of magnitude, and he doesn't have a powerful Semblance, if he has one at all. The only way that his sword can boost his strength is if it's magical, but that's crap."

"Is it, though?" Oobleck mused. his mint hair flickered in a breeze that echoed outwards from Jaune's and the monster's newest clash. "His powers are confusing, even to one such as Glynda, who has spent several decades of her life attempting to unlock all of the secrets of her Aura. The power of the soul is unique in everyone, and maybe Jaune has recorded a sword in his mental database that augments physical ability, even to such a degree as this. Maybe he- Hold on, what's that?"

Blake's eyes snapped back to Jaune. He appeared to be... glowing?

Yes, he was glowing, and the thing that was illuminating him sent a horrible shiver down her spine. Flames licked at the edges of his skin, like he had somehow burst into a conflagration of sparks. Despite the fact that his skin was surely blackening underneath the curtain of glinting heat, he didn't seem to be in pain; on the contrary, he was moving faster than ever. Blake didn't see another sword on his person, so there wasn't any chance that he had summoned an armament that granted him an immunity to fire.

Yet these hands will never hold anything.

Blake flinched back, as if struck in the face by an invisible hand. The words she'd heard weren't hanging in the air; they'd come and gone in a split second, but the echoes in her head left her feeling mournful. She glimpsed more fire, and a white-haired man, and then there was only the battle in front of her.

She watched closer. Jaune's eyes flicked to hers for only a second, gold meeting newly-forged steel, and she understood what he was going to do.

* * *

I crossed blades with Herakles again, feeling another chunk of my prana leave my body and travel up into Nine Lives' blade to match his herculean blows. There were only two more lines to my Aria, and when I accomplished it, I might be able to take one of Herakles' arms before he killed me. This was a man that was quite different from the Berserker that I'd met originally. This Herakles didn't have the raw physical ability that the Mad Enhancement gave him, but he was much smarter, and that was an arguably a worse deal. Making him a Saber also nulled the difference in stats between his base form and his Berserker form and gave him the ability of Magic Resistance, something that would only hinder my magical projectiles and swords greatly.

"Come on," I hissed, even as the seventh line echoed itself in my mind-

I have no regrets; this is the only path.

"-just a little more!"

"Muttering to yourself won't do you any favors, boy!" Herakles roared, slamming Nine Lives down on my Traced copy. It shattered under the force, protecting me at the cost of its form. I instantly Traced another one, feeling the prana mold itself into my desired form. A great wind pressed itself upon me as Herakles' golden armor flashed past, and I just barely managed to get the Nine Lives between me and his slash before I was sent sailing into another pillar.

"Ten more seconds?" I groaned to myself, feeling more than knowing the clicks of an invisible clock as they ticked down. Herakles flickered forward.

Nine. Eight.

In another two seconds, he and I exchanged a blistering series of attacks, dancing and flowing fro form to form. Herakles didn't have a set style, but still managed to move with an inner grace that could only be present in a Servant. Or Jackie Chan.

Seven. Six. Five.

I could feel my soul molding itself to the outside world, and even as I parried a supersonic slash, I fought against the tenuous pull of the world's spirit and created my own existence, my own Everdistant Utopia. The swords appeared with blinding speed, but they seemed slow to my eyes, as if I was moving in reverse.

Four. Three. Two.

My whole life was...

One.

"Unlimited Blade Works!"

And then I was consumed in fire and swords, and I was home.

* * *

"What in the nine hells...?" Oobleck mumbled, looking over his glasses at the rapidly expanding dome of flame that burned a circular ring into the remains of the courtyard. It kept on going, flowing over land and past the courtyard.

"We're going to get caught in the blast!" Blake snapped to her team. They were already erecting shields with their Aura, though Blake knew that they wouldn't finish closing before the soundless, shockless explosion consumed. She watched with helpless fear as the fires came closer, closer, closer...

And then they passed over her, and she saw a different world.

It couldn't be anything but another world, for it was so desolate and lonely it couldn't possibly compare to the wild and untamed lands of Remnant. All that stretched in front of her was a blackened wasteland, cracked and broken every few feet by fissures in the baked stone. Sticks shot straight up along those cracks, glinting in the orange sky. No, not sticks- swords. Thousands upon thousands of swords rose from the ground. The only sign of life was a series of rolling hills behind them, barred by the same flame that bordered some unknown edge far off in the distance. Its green pastures were occupied by the figures of two men fighting at blistering speeds, and though she only took another moment to look at them, she was just as awed, if not more so than Jaune's, from their duel. The endless plain stretched all the way to the horizon

"What in the..." she breathed. Was this Jaune's doing?

"Ivaldi!" she heard, over the sound of her own thoughts. She turned and looked at Jaune. He seemed transformed by whatever he'd done. Now he stood tall and proud, instead of the hunched and tense form she'd watched fighting the monstrous man moments before. The golden armor he'd Traced from the Gilgamesh person he mentioned was laid over his clothing, almost shimmering like a mirage. In his hands were two swords, both curved and and rusted brown. More than that, though, were his eyes.

Her breath caught involuntarily. He looked confident, calm and strong, far stronger than anything he'd show her and his teammates. He looked like he could win.

Blake watched her partner with sharp eyes as his swords tapped each other.

* * *

When Unlimited Blade Works activated, my worries fell away from my form as if they simply didn't exist. I was filtering the prana used to perpetuate my Reality Marble from the mana in the real world, a very hard feat if it weren't for the energy-draining swords half-inside, half-outside the dome of flames that marked the edge. Each sword that rose from the ground made me more confident, more assured of my ability to take Herakles' life. My hands snapped to my sides, shattering Nine Lives instantly, and two more swords took its place.

They were similar only in their appearance: two identical falchions, forged in the fires of a temple that practiced both Islam and Christianity and cooled in the waters of the Mediterranean Sea. Both were rusty and chipped, shedding flakes of steel whenever I moved them. Together, they were known as Ivaldi. Apart, one could call them the Travelled Blades.

The sword in my left hand was held in the hand of the famed explorer Marco Polo throughout his travels. It acted as a conduit for knowledge, recording everything about the styles of those foes it clashed against. That knowledge was useless, though, simply pooling within the sword and staying there. That was where the second sword came in. It was forged for the almost equally-storied Ibn Battuta, a Muslim traveller and philosopher that explored a great deal of Africa, the entire Middle East, and some of India. His sword connected with Marco Polo's sword, becoming a releaser of that knowledge. With them both, I knew everything about the various styles of the Mediterranean, all of the nuances and personal variations, including the heavy-handed fighting style that was reminiscent of Herakles' blows.

We danced like that for a painful nineteen seconds, me dodging his blows and Ivaldi skittering off his incredibly hard skin like it was steel. I turned only once in that battle, and that was to flip over a beheading slash from Nine Lives.

It seemed there was a new addition to my Reality Marble.

Instead of the endless field of desert earth that formerly made up my Unlimited Blade Works, a series of hills and plains- Avalon's hills and plains- was cordoned off by reality-defying flames. In the distance, I could just manage to spot a glittering golden figure battling against a silhouette that was blocked by an incoming cloud in the distance. I zoomed in in that instant, trying to find anything wrong with the fight. Gilgamesh was looking haggard, and apparently the time spent in the real world was reflected on him as well. In addition to several small scars and a bloody cheek, he had developed a thin moustache and a long, thick beard the same shade as his hair. It made him look a great deal more kingly.

Ugh. I thought that?

As I whirled back around to face Herakles, something else caught my eye. Sitting in the line of flames, looking utterly untouched by the carnage raging around it, was a black shadow. Formless, devoid of anything that could be called a body, it _watched._ I wasn't sure how, but I could feel its gaze lingering on me.

My feet hit the ground, and I began to move again, pushing Arthur, the mysterious figure and Gilgamesh into the back of my mind. It would be better to ignore the two for now and concentrate on killing Herakles.

I raced forward to meet Herakles once more, my prana suddenly inconsequential. I Traced a dozen copies of Hrunting: Hound of the Red Plains and shot them off in different directions, giving them a 360 degree target area to strike Berserker. When they came in contact with the field his Magic Resistance emitted, their inherent hunting enchantments failed, but it was unnecessary for the power to even exist after their initial shots. Each one buried their stone blades into his muscles, sinking only a few inches but still managing to pin him down for a second. I took a spare instant before I continued my chase to marvel at the power that my Reality Marble granted me. If I'd tried that in the real world, I would have died from prana exhaustion at that point!

Ivaldi shimmered in my grip, their shared knowledge flowing into me and becoming inscribed in the ever-growing records of Unlimited Blade Works. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see hundreds of different blades materialize in the ground; remnants of the battles fought with my storied swords. Their knowledge flowed into me, and I suddenly realized that I should step back instead of dodging to the side, since the shockwave from Nine Lives would leave me in a disadvantageous position and pitch me forward. If I caught it on my chest, there was less impact from the spread area and I'd be able to keep my ground.

It was then that I learned just how much the two great travellers knew about... well, everything, really. They had knowledge of technology that was far more advanced than their time generally permitted, combining different idea from different countries in ways only the most ingenious inventors could have possibly imagined.

When the slash came down, the wind parted around me- it didn't even touch me. I was left completely clear of a backlash, and I took the advantage. I tossed the Ivaldi in the air and Traced another Gae Bolg, its crimson tip already gleaming with sanguine energy. "GAE BOLG!" I roared, thrusting it down.

Before the spear was even out of my hand, Caliburn was there, bleeding golden fire from its blade. I swung down, producing an effect very similar to something that Excalibur performed, only less raw energy and more erupting flame. Everything went white in a second.

But my assault didn't stop there. I leaped back and raised my hands. A thousand swords, all of them Noble Phantasms in some shape or form, rose with me and pointed towards the fireball that was Herakles. They all fired at once, and it was absolutely glorious. The kind of infernal destruction, so primal and yet so refined, was stunning to behold.

The great blaze of fire that followed made me sure that I'd killed Herakles. Not even Saber, with Avalon, Excalibur and a handful of fucking Senzu Beans could survive the kind of onslaught that came from a combination of Merodach, Caliburn, Gram, Durandal, Nine Lives, Rule Breaker, and hundreds of others. He was clearly dead when the smoke cleared: there were swords sticking out of every inch of his blackened muscles. He looked more like a pincushion than a person.

And then he started to move.

My Reality Marble shattered instantly in that moment. Despite the fact that it took most of its mana from the deepest dredges of my very metaphysical being, it still required a connection and a thread of prana from me to keep itself active, and when I bottomed out on prana everything fell apart. I dropped to my knees, the Aura taking over and burning my skin and soul. It hurt, but I managed to keep my eyes on Herakles.

Actually, it was more like I couldn't take my eyes off him, because that was the only thing my brain could focus on. He stood tall, swords dropping from his flesh like dust. Blood flowed from his various wounds, black and viscous, but with every second he became healthier. In ten seconds, his wounds closed, just as the orange sky faded entirely and the cracked and broken square returned to us.

I honestly wanted to call bullshit that point. Having God Hand as a Saber, with a boosted Noble Phantasm, way better stats and inherent Magic Resistance? What a fucking broken character.

"Ha?" I mumbled intelligently. Herakles looked himself over. There was something akin to wonder in his olive eyes.

"Three lives..." he whispered, awed. "You took three of my lives in one fell swoop, boy. Perhaps you are more powerful than I give you credit for. Most Servants wouldn't be able to take more than one or two before being obliterated. Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to live. I detest my Master, but she has a grand plan that she needs to accomplish, and I have a wish that I have to realize. There's no point in letting you live longer, but I suppose a warrior of your caliber deserves a painless death."

Herakles raised Nine Lives, the bronzed edge shimmering with coppery light. Within it, I saw the writhing heads of a hundred serpents in all different colors, snapping and thrashing at me. The axe descended.

While I couldn't roll out of the way, I didn't need to. A copy of Myrtenaster, stabbed into the ground almost a hundred feet away from me, rose of her own accord, her blade washing serene calmness over everything in sight. She stabbed forward and blocked the attack completely. As the reverberations faded from her form, the hilt twisted in midair until my fingers were resting mere millimeters from her grip. I managed to work up the strength to wrap my digits around her bone-white handle, and that was when the world sharpened. I was on my feet in an instant, Avalon surging into overdrive and a new stem of prana filling me from Myrtenaster's enchanted reserve. I chanted the first six lines of my Aria again, the lines blistering past one another in a race to see which would be able to react first: my arm, or Herakles'. Both blurred into motion.

"Battle Continuation!" I called, ripping a spear that granted the ability out of the ground at the same time that Myrtenaster guided my arm into the correct motion to deflect Nine Lives' wide blade. My body reacted according to the will of the Divine Skill granted only to a few fighters. My body instantly filled back to the brim with prana, and before anyone could protest the decision I was already arcing high overhead, stabbing downwards. I quietly soothed Myrtenaster as Dust flooded her system, burning her insides. A myriad of elements, from fire to ice to lightning and even raw prana flew forth from her tip, splashing against Herakles' skin. It didn't do a lot of damage, but it was enough to distract him while I went in for another kill behind him. Myrtenaster sunk a half foot into Herakles' body, piercing taut muscle with a sick squelch. She didn't pierce the heart, but I did all I had to.

Overhead, the deafening burst of a supersonic shockwave flattened the grass below me. Ozpin was there in a flash, his sword out of his cane and his stance ready to attack at a moment's notice. Herakles turned and swung. Using his full, unbridled Strength, his arm was little more than a translucent afterimage, but Ozpin blocked it with a parry that was only slightly slower. His thin sword flashed out in a blaze of viridian light that came centimeters from completely shearing Herakles' face off. As it was, several layers of skin were missing from his now very red nose.

I stared. I'd seen battles between Servants, of course, and I'd participated in several of them, but this was something on an entirely different level from that. Herakles was, without a doubt, the strongest creature I'd ever seen, even stronger than Saber and Gilgamesh in terms of stats. But even including that into the situation at hand, Ozpin was a phenomenal fighter. There was a reason he was the headmaster of the most successful training academy in the world, and he'd obviously been keeping his skills sharp. It was generally confirmed at the end of the Fifth War that, of all the Masters, my unique specialty made me one of the only three humans in Fuyuki, the other two being assassination masters, that could fight on the level of a Servant for even a short time. My Reality Marble, or the manifestation of it, made it even easier to stand on the level of a Servant. But even with all the skills I'd Traced or borrowed through weapons, I still couldn't come close to matching Ozpin's sheer skill on the subject of battle.

In the end, it seemed like a Faker could still be surpassed by someone who practiced for endless hours upon endless hours with their weapon. It was most assuredly humbling, I can tell you that. Even Myrtenaster, who didn't have eyes or the ability to sense the outside world save through its wielder, seemed shocked and distant by the revelation of Ozpin's power.

Ozpin and Herakles exchanged several more blows. Despite the new challenge, Herakles never even looked fazed: his deadpan expression matched Ozpin's perfectly. The sheer magnitude of the fight continued to dwarf me for several more minutes.

Herakles suddenly stopped halfway through his blow, a sweeping overhand cut that would have taken Ozpin's head off if he wasn't already moving to block the blow, spin around and stab at Herakles' now-exposed back. I'd only just noticed, but the last remains of the Nemean Lion's coat had shattered after my onslaught of Noble Phantasms.

"Understood, Master," he rumbled. He leapt away from Ozpin's slash and turned to me. "Summon your Servant soon, Emiya. You might just impress me yet."

With that, he was gone in a flash of light. Ozpin and I swore at the same time. He didn't look any the worse for wear, but I... I, on the other hand, was leaning on Myrtenaster, trying to regain my strength after canceling the Battle Continuation that Lancer had unwillingly loaned me.

"Well, that was a thing," I muttered to Myrtenaster. She shivered in my grip, as if to agree with me, and then we both passed out from the prana exhaustion.


	22. Frail

**Welcome back to Remnant of Cursed Paradise! It's been a long time, but I'm back and ready for action, so let's get to it!**

* * *

**Chapter 22: Frail**

When I next opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was that Blake was holding my hand.

I was in the infirmary, judging by the thin, firm mattress beneath me and the painted-white metal poles rising a few inches around me, cutting off any way of getting out of the bed without me

manually hoisting myself up. Sunlight filtered in through the window to my left, while the table on my right held a flickering lamp and a few odd trinkets. I was wearing, according to my Structural Analysis, a fresh pair of cotton pants and a matching tunic. My hair had fully changed to its previous auburn color during my sleep, and my eyes stung a bit from lack of use.

I felt fine, and I probably looked fine, but Blake didn't. Her face was streaked with dried tears, and there were a few crinkles that marked the beginnings of crow's feet in the corner of her eyes. Her hair was held back in a vain attempt to keep it tidy, obviously not tamed, and her bow had been discarded completely in favor of a messy ponytail. Her clothes looked rumpled, and I could feel the warmth of her skin as one cheek rested against my leg.

"She fell asleep..." I mumbled to myself. The confirmation was enough to concretely settle that fact in my brain, and even through my half-awake haze I could recognize that she was obviously distressed by my near-death experience. My hand lifted and idly stroked a stray lock away from her contented face. "Just sleep, Blake," I mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"You damn well better be," another voice grumbled from in front of the bed. I craned my neck up and glared at Cander as he crossed the room.

"What do you want?" I snapped.

"Don't talk to me like that, boy," he shot back. He kept his voice down so as to not wake Blake up, but he still leveled a blazing glare at me. "I don't want to hear any crap after I managed to get you stabilized. That idiotic energy of yours doesn't seem to know when to quit; everything you had was going into healing your body, with no regard for your soul. I could literally feel your Aura weakening when I dropped you here. It took a day and a half, but I managed to get you into an acceptable condition, so be grateful at the very least."

I shook my head at him. "I wouldn't have died, and we both know that."

"Yeah, but she didn't." He jerked his head in Blake's direction. "She was here almost every second she could spare, always getting in my way. You better be thankful you have such a loyal teammate, boy. It's rare that you get that kind of trust, even in a team where people have to watch each others' backs for years on end."

My anger softened a little when I thought of Blake again. "Yeah... yeah, I guess you're right. When am I free to go?"

"Whenever you want," Cander replied, shuffling over to the oak desk that sat at the forefront of the infirmary. He pulled a glimmering red vial out of a drawer and carefully swilled the contents. "Gods know I should get to have a free bed again. There were thankfully no deaths from the skirmish between you, Ozpin and that mystery terrorist, but several people were injured by falling debris, and Aura is much better at healing clean wounds than broken bones. What exactly did happen, boy? I heard Ozpin arrive, but with that man's level of skill, you'd have to be better than the average Huntsman to hold him back for even a small amount of time."

So nobody saw my Unlimited Blade Works? That was good; it was one of my trump cards, and I never like giving out trump cards if I can help it. It gives the enemy too much information. I idly flexed my free hand and checked the Command Seals. They hadn't fully solidified, so that meant that not all the Servants had been summoned, but the fact that Herakles' Master wasn't obeying the rules meant that she didn't care, or Herakles hadn't told her of the conditions about engaging a Master before the War had started. Honestly, it was a rule that a Servant wasn't ever supposed to go after a Master, but it was so much easier than fighting a Servant that Casters and Assassins were famous for targeting Masters instead of Servants. Heroes were easy to predict once you got the ins and outs of the Grail War memorized, mostly because they never strayed from the norm.

"Blake," I muttered, trying to stir the sleeping Faunus. "Blake, wake up. Come on, Blake."

She mumbled something I couldn't understand and furrowed herself deeper into the crook of my knee.

For some reason, I didn't have the heart to wake her up after that.

* * *

Blake woke up about an hour later.

I eventually Traced a pair of metal earplugs and shoved them in my ears when Cander's haggard muttering got to be too much for me. He was still shuffling about, angrily grumbling and throwing his emerald Aura around like confetti.

Blake's eyes opened slowly and blearily. Their golden depths seemed to pool for a moment before her pupils focused and her ears twitched. She glanced up at me. "Shirou, what are you doing here?" she mumbled softly, taking the effort to reach up and cup my face with a palm. "You should be in the hospital..."

Then, like a gunshot had gone off, she leapt to her feet and gripped me in a hug comparable to one of Herakles' blows. "You're alive!" she cried. "Oh gods, you're alive!"

I sat there for a few minutes, merely rubbing small circles into Blake's blouse and letting her sob against my shoulders. It was the only time in my life that I'd ever seen her openly cry. Sure, she shed tears just like the rest of us, but seeing the normally stoic girl so open, so vulnerable, was almost surreal. Eventually, the shaking in her shoulders stopped, and she held me at arm's length with bloodshot eyes. "You're alright?" she almost whispered. "You're not hurt anymore?"

I held up a hand. The duel with Herakles had left both of them mangled and bereaved with jagged slashes. Now, though, everything was healthy, save for the smallest of pink scars near the center of my hand, just to the left of one of my Command Seals.

"Thank the gods," she muttered again, looking weak at the knees. I shifted so she could sit on the end of my cot. "How long have I been out?" I asked.

She gave me a lighthearted grin. "Three days," she said. "We were worried, you know. It's not like you to miss your homework." She suddenly went somber again. "Ruby was beside herself when the headmaster told us about your condition. She hasn't come out of the room in all that time, even for classes and food. Ren's been bringing her enough to eat, but I'm getting worried about her condition."

"Let's go, then." I shoved myself out of bed and Traced a pair of jeans and a plain white shirt. Blake looked momentarily surprised at my sudden change in demeanor, but she followed without another word.

That was the thing with Blake. She knew that I was someone who would gladly give my life in exchange for someone else's, someone who couldn't bear to see my friends in even the slightest of pain. Ruby was clearly in pain, and being the one that had caused it, I was supposed to amend it.

I stormed through the halls with a vigor that I hadn't felt since that day that I'd met Martin and Tabitha McClain. some of the older students were slapping me on the back, others congratulating me on holding back the massive beast until Ozpin arrived, and still others whispering about me as I passed. Other than politely nodding to those directly addressing me, I paid them no heed.

I soon found myself in front of my team's room. I took a long, deep breath and pushed the door open.

"I already told you I'm not hungry, Ren," I heard Ruby mumble. The verdant martial artist was sitting in a chair and holding a plate piled high with every food they served at Beacon. He was gesturing to a lump underneath Ruby's rose-print sheets. He gave her an exasperated grunt.

"You are if you're going to get that team rating in two days," I told her seriously. "I heard you've been starving yourself for three days because you're freaking out about me? Really, Ruby, I'm not worth that much."

Ruby's head slowly, agonizingly peeked out from under her comforter. Her eyes were glinting, and not because her mirror-smooth irises reflected the light of the fan above us.

"I'm back," I finished rather lamely. She continued staring at me for a good twelve seconds. As each tick passed, her pupils widened slightly, until the only sign of her irises was a thin ring of silver, almost like a pair of eclipses.

"You're okay?" she finally asked. Her entire body uncoiled from the ball it had been tucked into, and she swung her legs out onto the floor. "You're alright, no more injuries?"

I spread my arms, allowing her to get a decent look at the skin. "As far as I can tell."

Good, because I don't know whether to hug you or slap you right now," she whispered, her voice simultaneously a deadly cold and searing heat. "You never, ever do something like that unless we're there for backup, alright?"

"Ruby, I can't-"

"Promise me." Her terms were clear, and from the tone of her voice they were non-negotiable. I couldn't put her in danger like that, but... it seemed like I didn't have a choice. "Promise me!" she said again, this time more forcefully, as if she had finally gotten control of her roiling emotions.

I gripped my forehead. This was proving to be too much of a headache. Maybe I should have listened to my lazy side and stayed in bed for a few more minutes after all...? Nevertheless, I opened my mouth to respond.

"I promise," I muttered finally, shaking my head. "But in return you three better start training your asses off. I refuse to be the cause of your deaths by promising you that, and right now you can't handle a minute against Herakles. All three of you, together, would last about thirty seconds against him, never mind someone like Lancer, who can outspeed even that monster of a man. Right now, you're a the level of rank E Servants, and to get you to competence, we'll have to train you to at least rank C."

"We'll do it," all three of my teammates said immediately. I marveled for a moment just how ready they were to put their lives on the line, just for my safety. Of course, it would probably end up getting all four of us killed at some point, but I'd burn that bridge when I got to it.

"Now that that's over with," Blake said blithely. "Let's get some food, shall we? I heard that someone has been eating the bare minimum for three days straight."

Ruby just glared at me, unwilling to break eye contact for even a second. We both shook our heads, smiling just a little bit, and with that all was right in the world again.

Well, almost everything.

"I'll see you guys in a bit," I told them. Blake gave me a suspicious glance. "I've gotta go talk to Ozpin about something, but I'll be back in a bit."

* * *

Weiss breathed in deeply, feeling her emotions quell with every passing second. The heat that emanated from her hands turned to cold under Myrtenaster's steely touch. This had to work, it had to. Jaune Arc was still a mystery, and he would be for a while longer if the minute bits of information they'd gotten were anything to go by, but she had to know if he was telling the truth or not.

Two months of constant researching had only led her to one book, a positively ancient tome bound in fraying leather that told of rituals used to detect the life force in humans. As time had gone by, there were more effective and less costly ways to use the only technique known to reveal a disguised Nightmaiden, so it had been lost to the annals of history, but it was also the only one that even remotely allowed the possibility of searching for things beyond Grimm.

She sat within a circle made of powdered Dust; expensive, but necessary to finally satisfy the boiling curiosity in her gut. Myrtenaster was upright stabbed into the ground and releasing a constant, minty breeze. With a trepidated breath, she closed her eyes and focused.

As she sank deeper into meditation, flickers of color rippled into the vast swath of darkness, recreating the barest traces of the world in full brightness. Trails of angry red blossomed in the vague form of people in the distance, followed by the crystalline yellow reminiscent of walls and arches and a field of emerald wisps that laid out a plane of grass. Her own soul was a translucent sapphire, emanating cold like a blizzard. In the far, far distance, she could see Yang's blazing with passion, and Jaune's as well, a silvery steel fortress., two of the only colors she could distinguish in the vast rainbow of light that danced across the backs of her eyelids.

She looked down, scanning for something- anything- that would indicate that Myrtenaster was indeed an inanimate object. She was horribly disappointed; thirteen points of light, each one slightly different than the last but all containing the same traces of musical power that resonated deeply within her whenever its blade was engulfed with runes. She reached out with her Aura, feeling around the outside of the sword's, her sword's, brilliant light. It responded sharply, reaching out to entrap her for a second before recognizing that she wasn't a threat and clasping around her. Immediately, the silver runes danced to light again, signalling the mixing of the two forces. White and ice blue blended to form a cerulean so pale it almost hurt to look at.

And then she could feel.

Anger, hurt, pain, joy, ecstasy, relief and a hundred other emotions bled past their connection and into her head, bringing her to her knees almost immediately. As she fought to contain the drowning tide of feeling, Myrtenaster shivered and shook from where it had pierced the tile beneath her. Colors and shapes flowered in her vision, distorting reality and producing a bizarre, monstrous landscape. Then it all came to an end, and the emotions sucked themselves back into Myrtenaster. With a deafening silence, all but the tenuous connection was gone.

Another emotion came through, reaching out like a tendril of vine and wrapping around her thoughts. Apology. There was clear apology in that tone, and she couldn't understand why.

"No, I'm sorry," she whispered back. Acceptance radiated from the sword, and she pulled it from its place in the ground. The connection remained this time, not like the brief flashes she would get when channeling the runes on the blade. Every emotion, every small and insignificant thought, flowed from her into her sword, and it would return with an accompanying opinion.

A small smile fell upon her lips. "How did you know, Jaune Arc?"'

"That is not Jaune Arc." Weiss spun around, all feelings of content dispelled by the interruption. Blake Belladonna stormed into the room, a furious look in her eyes. Over the past month, she and Blake had formed a strange sort of friendship. It had all started with mere research, of course, and while she didn't hate Faunus for what they'd done to her father's company, she wasn't exactly fond of them either. Then they had started spending time outside of class and the library together, occasionally grabbing a cup of coffee or just watching a movie in their free time. It was curious, but comforting.

"What do you mean?" she asked tentatively. Blake had only been angry around her once before, and it wasn't an experience she wanted to repeat.

Blake whirled again, pacing back and forth in the unused classroom. "I don't know who or what that person is, but it is definitely not my partner," she muttered. "Think about it! All those terms that none of us even know about, the 'magical swords', the freaking Dead Apostle thing he and the headmaster were talking about! None of it makes sense. The last one I could put off as a secret mission for the headmaster, but the other two? Come on! And this morning he just wakes up with no injuries whatsoever. Nobody heals that quickly!"

"I have to concur," Weiss admitted, sighing audibly. "His records state that he shouldn't be remotely able to do what he's been doing since he started school. His medical reports say that he's in below-average shape, but he's one of the most well-toned people in our class. He has an unnatural skill with all types of blades that weren't even shown on his assessments. His exam scores are actually lower than they were on the placement exam, and while I could put that down to studying hard it doesn't explain why his grades stay at the top of the class regardless. Everything about him is an anomaly."

"An anomaly I need to interrogate," Blake whispered darkly. "This has gone on for long enough."

* * *

Lawine "The Avalanche" Schnee was not a very intimidating man.

Now, anyone could tell you that, but it didn't really convey his image until you actually saw him. He stood just shy of five feet, as had the last five generations of Schnee, and his white hair was perpetually swept to the side that showed a soft face and baby-blue eyes. If the faint wrinkles on his brow and the crow's feet at his eyes weren't there, there would be no indication that he was even older than fifteen. Despite that, he had managed to make it to the top of his company with blood, sweat and tears. He had two sides, his most usual being the calm, relaxed father figure that Weiss and Winter had grown up.

And then there was his angry side. Lawine Schnee only very rarely got angry, but when he did it was a spectacle of such epic proportions even James Ironwood and Emmanuel Ozpin would stop what they were doing to watch. Of the very few people that had gotten away in one piece from an angry Lawine Schnee, they described a terrible man who, though short, turned into a frosty demon on the battlefield, killing any and all things that dared to stand in its path.

It was the calm side of Lawine that entered Ozpin's office in the morning, his chilled demeanor contrasting greatly to Ozpin's tense one. If Lawine had any concerns, he didn't show them; he just stared at Ozpin with blue eyes and took a seat. There was someone else in the room, a boy with hair somewhere in between marigold and carnelian. He paid him no mind, however, merely assuming him to be one of Ozpin's assistants.

"It's a pleasure, Lawine." Ozpin was polite, he'd give him that, but the president of the Schnee Dust Company rarely had time for pleasantries, and this was not one of them.

"Where is my daughter?" he asked, seemingly genial. "I have heard of several altercations with another student."

"That would be me," the boy beside him said. Lawine's eyes flicked over him once again. There was something unnatural about this boy; his eyes shifted, from barely-noticeable shades of grey, yellow and blue. Most wouldn't notice this, but Lawine was a Dust connoisseur, and given how even the slightest of shading differences between Dust crystals could drastically change its effects, he had to be able to notice these things. His stance was also unusual, deceptively calm but ready to lash out at a moment's notice.

"Can you explain what happened?" Given his prior interaction to teenagers, he expected the boy to shout, to blatantly insult his daughter. He was, however, surprised when he simply smiled.

"It was merely a few spars that went too far," he explained. "Weiss wasn't handling Myrtenaster properly and very much disliked the advice I gave her in regards to cooperating with her. Actually... if I may, Mr. Schnee, I have a few questions for you."

"Go ahead."

"What is Myrtenaster?"

Lawine was thrown off by the unusual question. "Pardon?" he asked, feeling an inkling of curiosity in his stomach.

"Sir, please don't patronize me. There is nobody on this planet that knows swords like I do, and I know that Myrtenaster has a soul. Why, then, does that so feel so ancient and so primeval that it cannot be fully contained by a two-year-old blade?"

Ozpin smiled thinly. Lawine was impressed at the boy's intuition, if not at his senses. "I am surprised," he admitted. "Very few people know Myrtenaster's story, and even fewer realize that she moves around sometimes. Let me tell you a story."

A flicker of movement caught his eyes, and he nearly turned his head to stare at the door. The small flash of a white boot settled behind the doorway, visible only from the miniscule crack between the floor and the hinge, but he paid it no mind. It was about time his daughter finally learned about the sword she wielded.

"Let me tell you both a story," he said softly. "A story which has been passed down with Myrtenaster for as long as she has been held by a mortal hand. The beginning of the legend is unclear, mostly because of when rather than what. But before the Grimm War, there existed a swordsmith, a man whose entire existence revolved around making swords. His name, Smith, is where we got the term blacksmith so long ago. But the legend tells that one day, a man with red hair and golden eyes as bright as the sun approached Smith and asked him to forge a sword that would surpass all other swords, a sword that was alive. Smith agreed to the challenge, and for ten days he toiled at the forge, assisted at all turns by the man with red hair and golden eyes. Finally, when the blade emerged from its final tempering, it shone clear as crystal, and Smith said a life would need to be willingly given for the sword to reach its full potential. The man smiled, took the sword in hand... and thrust it through his heart.

"Smith was shocked, and asked the man why he would give up his own life. The man's hair faded to white, his eyes dulling to grey, and he smiled, saying that his sacrifice would ensure the safety of generations. With that, the man passed away, his body fizzling to nothingness. Smith, in a last act of wonder, tracked down a swordsman worthy of holding the blade. He found a woman whose skill with a sword was unparalleled, and gifted to her the sword, saying that it would only deign to be used in a noble pursuit."

Lawine watched the boy carefully. In a few of those lines, in the lines of a legend told only by the Schnee family to the youngest heir, he saw... recognition? "It is said that the man's soul still resides within, as well as twelve other souls that further the sword's power. Every now and then, however, Myrtenaster must be... remade. Not even a sword to surpass all other can handle more than a thousand years of near-constant use. And so, we will forge thirteen swords, and Myrtenaster will choose which one to next inhabit.

Lawine watched the boy's eyes harden. "That explains it, then," he murmured. His eyes flicked up. "Sir, how many wielders has Myrtenaster had?"

"Like I said, the exact number is unrecorded, and Myrtenaster is only picked up once every other generation or so, but we suspect anywhere from eleven to fourteen."

"I see." Lawine could see the boy's mind working, his eyes flicking around to track invisible points of information. His Scroll buzzed suddenly, and he sighed.

"I am afraid I will have to explain the rest to you later. I have a meeting with General Ironwood in two hours, and I must go." Before he turned away, however, he locked eyes with the boy, sapphire meeting sulphur and steel and sky all at once. "What is your name, boy?"

And as Lawine Schnee listened, the voice simultaneously lightened and deepened and harmonized, saying three different things that all sounded the same.

"I am Jaune Arc."

"I am Shirou Emiya."

"I am a hero."

Then he blinked, and the trance was broken and the boy snapped his mouth closed. Ozpin gave no indication that he'd ever heard the boy's multiple voices. As Lawine rose from his seat and strode to the door, he heard one more voice, whispered and hard and like steel, repeating endlessly in the boy's presence.

_I am the bone of my sword._

* * *

As Lawine Schnee left the office, I released my breath. There had been something off about that man, and it wasn't in the same way that there was something off about Ozpin. The last time I remembered someone's gaze affecting me that deeply was when Archer and I merged and his quicksilver glare had remained in the back of my mind ever since. Now, though... It was like Lawine was calling out to my soul, calling to Unlimited Blade Works, bringing it to the surface in a furnace of iron and flame and baked earth.

"Get moving," Ozpin told me shaking me out of my reverie. We'd been discussing my plans to summon the Servant; I'd decided that morning that I'd already wasted too much time. The ritual would take place that night, with Ozpin there to observe directly. "If you're going to summon that Servant of yours, make all the preparations now. I want this Grail War done and over with, and we should move on to hunting that Apostle as soon as we can."

I nodded, not choosing to say anything in case a voice that wasn't my own spewed from my lips. I jerked to my feet and headed for the door.

I caught the briefest glimpse of sunlight as the door closed, then it clicked shut, and something slammed me over the head. I fell, darkness enshrouding my mind and my form.

* * *

Water soaked my head, and suddenly I was awake again. I tried to blink, but something obscured my eyes; the same went for my nose and mouth. I would have Traced something to get out of my restraints, but I wasn't quite ready for complex thought at that point, and my hands were tied behind my back. If I'd tried pulling a levitating sword, there was a chance I would skewer myself or something else so that was out.

Was it an enemy that had captured me, a Servant perhaps? The only one I wouldn't have been able to detect was Assassin, and Assassins had a tendency to toy with their victims, either out of sadistic pleasure or to get information. With that grim thought in mind, I readied myself, prepared to internally activate Unlimited Blade Works and steel my tongue and nails as skewers.

"Get the gag out of his mouth; it looks like he's coherent enough," a familiar voice commanded. There was a soft pattering of steps, and suddenly my mouth was free. I instinctively pushed my tongue between my teeth, prepared to start incanting my Aria, but the voice stopped me. I had heard it somewhere before, but where?

"The blindfold too, while you're at it." I definitely knew the second voice. But why was Blake in the room, too? Was I a part of some sort of crime? Had I done something against the law? I ticked off all my actions in the past few days in my head; nothing, other than the battle with Herakles, could have been considered remotely illegal.

A stone dropped into the pit of my stomach as another thought occurred to me. Was Blake still with the White Fang? Had she kidnapped me- other people as well, possibly- as some sort of leverage? To show an example? If it was entirely necessary, I could use my blades in wide enough swings to defend myself, but I didn't know if I would be taking the heads off of anyone else.

I shook myself. Blake wasn't with the White Fang; that was preposterous. I may not have known true emotion for a long time, but what I did know was that Blake wouldn't admit to having been part of the White Fang and sounded bad about it for a simple sympathy stunt.

Just like I thought, when the blindfold was taken away from my eyes Blake was sitting across a table in front of me, partnered with none other than Weiss Schnee. I knew Weiss didn't particularly like me, but to go so far as to kidnap me?

The person who had taken off my blindfold, a man in a white jacket with dirty blond hair (I assumed he must have been a Schnee employee), stepped back and exited the room through a door behind me. I tried to tilt my head to get a better look, but a sliver of flesh was suddenly cut from my cheek, and I slowly turned back to my captors, willing my instincts not to take over and fire a half-dozen swords at them. Weiss was standing, her arm outstretched. There were a few knives at her belt, and I belatedly noticed one of them was missing from its sheath. I had a blueprint ready in my mind- not something that would kill, mind you, but a shield and a sword would be useful in case she tried killing me again.

"No moving, no lying, and no using your Semblance," she ticked off, setting her hand to her waist for emphasis. She must have known that Myrtenaster wouldn't willingly kill me, because she gripped the pommel of a wickedly sharp knife. I stilled.

"Who are you?" she continued. "Jaune Arc is supposed to be a wimp. Jaune Arc is supposed to be blond, blue-eyed, and pale, not... you." I took mild offense to that, however true it was; my hair had been reddening recently, as had my skin. My eyes were now a solid green, some ungodly combination of Jaune's blue and my own golden. A few grey hairs streaked out of my temples, evident of my recent Tracing against Herakles, but other than that, I was most definitely not Jaune anymore. I'd had several attacks in the past week. Every time, I'd managed to summon Avalon in time to prevent becoming a human pincushion, but the last few had been close calls. Each time, however, something about me changed; the first one had triggered the rapid reddening of my hair, while the second had changed my eyes from an almost-gold to orphan blue, though it was fading back again. I still didn't have any explanation for the attacks, other than the fact that Jaune's body was trying and failing to reject my soul.

"Beyond that, Jaune Arc isn't supposed to be at Beacon," Blake finished, glaring at me with eyes ringed by dark circles. All of your records, from the public to the private, say you don't have nearly enough qualification to attend, but here you are. You shouldn't even be able to hold a sword right, for gods' sakes, but you're the best swordsman in the academy! How does that work out?!"

"..." I sat silent for a good five minutes, but while the two of them sat patiently waiting, I was flicking through escapes, solutions, anything. There was a principle behind my secrets, and even if I'd told the truth now it didn't mean that I hadn't lied to them- lied to my partner- for more than five months. Five months living a continuous lie was a long time, and even I was starting to convince myself it was true.

"We're waiting," Weiss said finally. Her eyes hadn't sparked with anger, like they usually did when she was impatient. This wasn't the Weiss Schnee I knew; this was the future head of the Schnee Dust Company, calm and cool and calculative.

"I can't tell you," I replied.

"You can," Blake hedged. "Just tell us who you are-"

"No, I can't," I repeated. "Jaune Arc... isn't around. And I can't tell you who I am, so... sorry." With a mere flicker of thought and the opening of a Circuit, a miniature guillotine blade materialized in the air and fell, slicing right through the steel cable tying my wrists together. I rolled, snapping the cable holding my ankles with a knife, then threw myself to the side just as a salvo of bullets pierced the air next to my head.

I took down Blake first, and I wasn't ashamed to admit it. I didn't want her in harm's way as much as Weiss, and besides, she was the greater threat. I wouldn't kill them, but I could at least incapacitate them. After that, it would be easy to summon my Servant and escape to the Grail War's location with Ozpin. One minute she was readying Gambol Shroud's pistol for another volley of shots, the next a pair of Torashinai had struck her, one in the forehead and one in the stomach. She dropped like a rock.

Like I said, I wasn't aiming to kill.

Weiss darted forward instead of pulling back like I thought she would. There was a strange look on her face: vindication, anger and sheer disgust. "That was your teammate," she snarled as we locked blades, a simple kitchen knife with a sword who was much older than I gave it credit for. "That was someone who you've trusted your back with for almost half a year, and you just tried to kill her over a lie?!"

The bitter shout stung me, and Weiss managed to overpower my weak grip on the knife. "What else was I supposed to do?" I snapped back.

"You can tell the truth!"

"No I can't!"

"Why not?!" she screamed.

Something inside me, whether it was my patience, my control or something else, snapped. Swords shimmered to life all around me, followed by cracked earth and a rosy sky. My prana started draining faster and more harshly than ever before. "Because of this!" I roared. "Because each and every one of these swords is an abomination! Because of this _fucking_ Reality Marble, I'm being hunted by people stronger than you can imagine, and if anyone else knows they're dead too! I will not push that kind of death sentence on anyone!"

I stood and pulled a random sword- I didn't care which- out of the ground. Its blade hummed with a power that I didn't care to wield at the moment, so I simply released it to one side. An arc of destruction gouged itself in the ground, tossing a few more swords in the air and detonating them as well.

What... what was I doing? When did everything go wrong? Whatever happened to protecting the people? Here I was, having a tantrum, when there were still people to be saved. The thought of that alone disgusted me more than anything.

Unlimited Blade Works dispersed. I glanced at Weiss. She was pale, but her resolve hadn't wavered, and Blake was stirring to life beside her.

"Sit down," I told her. "This is going to take a while to explain."

* * *

"My name is Shirou Emiya, and I am a Magus."

That was how I started my explanation to Blake and Weiss. They both looked at me, eyes raised, pushing me to go on. "Before you ask, Jaune Arc was a real person once, and this is still his body. Back home, I was fighting... a menace. I've told you about Gilgamesh, Blake, but I don't think I conveyed how powerful he really was. He wasn't as strong as a Servant, not since gaining a body, but... he was the king of the first great Civilization on Earth for a reason, and it wasn't just hereditary. I was fighting him, and I eventually defeated him, but... I almost died in the process. Avalon cast my soul out off my dead body and into... somewhere. I ended up devouring Jaune's soul on accident and I stole his body."

At first they looked revolted at the thought of consuming a soul as a Nightmaiden would do, but their expressions changed to one of curiosity. "What is this Earth you speak of?" Weiss asked. "I don't think there's a continent, or even an island named Earth."

"That's because Earth is a planet," I explained. "I still don't know what happened- whether I crossed into another plane of existence, or if this is an alternate reality or something, but I'm not home anymore. That's part of the reason I got involved with Ozpin in the first place: he has the contacts I need to meet the people that can possibly get me back to where I came from."

"Okay I can accept that." I blinked. Well, it made sense, considering that for these people the supernatural was as simple as activating the power of the soul. Crossing dimensions probably wasn't even unheard of if the variance of Semblances I'd seen was any indication.

"But what about the 'Magus' part?" Blake asked.

"It's kind of like being a Huntsman or Huntress," I tried to explain. "It's a title, given to those people who have the power to control their prana- that is, the power that's produced by the soul. There are two components to it: od, that power that's being sent by the soul through the Magic Circuits in the body, and mana, the energy that the Earth naturally produces. I usually depend solely on od, which is what made me such a specialized Magus in my home, but ever since... the Jaune incident... I've noticed that I can channel mana. Your planet doesn't seem to be producing a lot of it though, which is weird. Is there no planetary spirit on Remnant?"

"Planetary spirit?"

"Yeah, the being that regulates the balance between the natural and the unnatural? That kind of planetary spirit?"

"Never heard of it," Weiss and Blake said at exactly the same time.

I sighed. "Okay, so how about..."

The line of questioning continued for the better part of three hours. At the end, I could safely say that Weiss and Blake knew me better than most anyone I'd ever known, save for maybe Rin and Saber, and that was only because they knew my... well.

We talked late into the night, until just the faintest hint of moonlight peeked over the horizon.

* * *

I stepped back, admiring my work. The memories of the past Summoning Circle bloomed to life, unbidden, in my mind after my conversation with Lawine and argument with Weiss. I called up Ozpin, let him know what was going on, and set to work.

For three days, with only visits from my team, Ozpin, and the occasional teacher, I was alone in a warehouse near the corner of Beacon's plateau. The concrete floor was perfect to draw on, and with all the spare chalk and other supplies, I had no shortage of materials. The Circle was complete in only twenty minutes, and the ritual was charged with od and ready to be performed in another thirty, and from there it was just a matter of rebuilding my reserves and charging the Circle with mana. The three days went by far faster than I expected. Most of the time, Ruby or Ren sat by me, calmly watching the Circle. Ruby, the more energetic of us four, was always asking questions, and I was happy to provide for the weapons addict. When they weren't there, I either meditated or recorded more information on the swords in my possession.

Blake, however...

It was no surprise that she would treat me with distrust after everything I had put her through, and while she seemed eager enough to accept my explanation as to why I'd been keeping my Magus abilities and my true identity secret for the past few months, there was no way our relationship would recover quickly. To be fair, though, she visited me fairly often in my special shed out on the Emerald Cliffs. She still knew what I acted like, who I really was, but now she just had a new name, a new identity, to put with that personality. After talking for a bit and several apologies on both our parts, we'd gotten back towards a sort of kinship, and while I still felt a spark of something whenever we talked I wouldn't risk pushing it.

Blake had made me explain everything to my team the second she and Weiss had finished hearing my story. Ruby had a hard time reconciling with the fact that I'd lied to her, but other than that she was absolutely fine with it, which was a little strange even for her. Ren, on the other hand, smiled as if he had always known. Every time I asked, though, he would just stay silent.

I mentally dethroned Blake as the smartest and most observant member of our team. Ren definitely took that spot.

Finally, the three days came to an end. I stood in front of the Circle, waiting for my team to show up. They hadn't been there for Lancer's summoning, and apparently the process was interesting enough for them to warrant another visit. Ozpin was sitting in a desk to my side, gazing over the Circle. The musty air created a haze between the two of us, smelling of dust and dirt and too much chalk. It was dulling to my senses, although Ozpin didn't seem too affected by it.

"And you're sure this won't blow up in your face?" he asked for the umpteenth time. I sighed and turned to him.

"No offense, Professor, but if you don't shut up and let me concentrate then I'll never be able to gather the necessary od to summon a Servant." Ozpin didn't seem satisfied by my answer, but he shut his mouth. Ruby knocked open the door and announced her presence shortly after.

Thankfully I hadn't really been serious about my meditations, so the ritual wasn't disrupted, but I still reminded myself to give them a stern talking to sometime soon.

I stepped to the edge of the Circle and opened all of my Circuits at once. I could see the haze of azure prana bubble up from my skin. Without another movement I began the ritual.

"_Let fire and steel be the essence._

_Let stone and the Archduke of Contracts be the foundation._

_The ancestor shall be my terrible forbear, Tohsaka._

_I hereby propose,_

_My will shall create thy body,_

_And thy sword shall create my fate._

_Abiding by the summons of this Holy Grail,_

_If thou doth accede to this will and reason, answer my callings._

_I hereby swear,_

_I shall be all that is good in this eternal world_

_And shall be the disposer of all evil in this eternal world._

_Thou, clad in the Great Trinity,_

_Come forth from my circle of restraint._

_Guardian of the Heavenly Scales!_"

The Circle, throughout the ritual, glowed brighter and brighter, until all that remained of the chalk lines was a blinding light. This time, my summoning was proper, so my Servant didn't appear right away, but rather with a great fanfare. A figure began to rise from the ground, tall and lean. The white light unraveled, revealing a red jacket, black body armor, and...

Oh. Oh no.

My Servant was tan, tanner than I was, with pure white hair and steely gray eyes. He stood a few centimeters taller than I did, but for the most part, our body structures and facial features were the same. He was a bit more streamlined, I was a bit more stocky, but that didn't matter.

When the light finally faded, a tall young man was standing across from me, his eyes closed. A pair of Chinese broadswords, one white and one black, were held effortlessly in his hands. A black bow was strapped to his back, along with a quiver of jet-black arrows. He opened his eyes.

"Upon your summoning, I have come forth," he said lazily, glancing over the assembled collection of people. "I ask of you, are- what the fuck?"

It was at that moment that I knew my chances at the Grail were pretty much fucked.

* * *

**And that's it for now! I've decided to officially do away with the comments section for now. See you next chapter, and keep reading!**


	23. Servitude

**Chapter 23: Servitude**

"Can somebody explain what's going on here?" Archer was the first to break the silence. He turned towards me, visibly angry. "Can you explain what's going on right now? 'Cause I got nothing. One thing I was resting in the throes of Gaia's influence, the next I'm standing right in front of you."

"Ja- Shirou, do you know this guy?" Ruby asked, jabbing her finger in Archer's direction.

Our eyes both narrowed, and Archer and I glared at each other. In some way, I could understand why the Grail had matched me with him. We were the same person after all, and since our Reality Marbles were exactly the same, and the Reality Marble was the representation of a person's soul, then he and I were a 100 percent compatibility. It wasn't just that, either. I knew he was a Counter Guardian, someone who formed a proverbial contract with Alaya to realize their dreams. They were considered the janitors of the magical world; they just came in and cleaned up a mess if it got too big for ordinary Magi to handle. When he'd appeared in the Fifth War, he must have been trying to contain Angra Mainyu before he corrupted someone other than Gilgamesh. Now, however...

"Why are you here?" I asked, Tracing my own version of Kanshou and Bakuya and holding them up. "What kind of disaster is going to happen that makes her send you?"

"Don't shoot the messenger, brat," Archer snapped. "You already tried to beat my mistakes out of me once, but it didn't work. I won't ask you to do it again. You're obviously not the one I'm looking for, so let's call a truce for now."

I am curious about your relation to this man as well, Shirou," Ozpin said, rising from his place at the piled desks. "Tell me, how do you know this stranger? Do you know him the same way you knew that Herakles fellow?"

"You could say that," I began slowly, not once taking my eyes off of Archer. We both De-Traced at the same time and held our hands out as a sign of good will. He stepped out of the Circle and sat down on the floor, glowering up at me from his place on the concrete.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Shirou," everyone except for Ozpin said at once. I sighed and looked at Archer.

"We'll be able to discuss this later, I think," I told him. He nodded. "As for everything else..."

I turned to my team and gestured at my future possibility. "Everyone, meet Archer. Try to avoid talking to him if you can. His name is EMIYA, but stick with Archer; it's easier on both of us."

"Isn't your surname Emiya, though?" Blake asked, narrowing her eyes. She reached for Gambol Shroud.

"EMIYA is in all capitals," I supplied. "He's more of the legacy of my father than of me, anyway. Essentially, he is me. A future possibility of me, who died and forged a contract with Alaya, the spirit of my planet, to realize his dream. Don't bother asking how that works, because I don't know and he probably doesn't either."

"So he's you?" Ruby asked. I nodded. "Then why is he so... so cold?"

"Because he's a jaded asshole," I told her honestly. There was a slam of Servant face on concrete from behind me, and I smiled a little. I was taking too much after Gilgamesh. "I don't know just what he went through, but I'd rather leave it alone. Ask him on your own time- on second thought, try not to interact with him at all. All I know is that he has the exact same abilities as I did, so at least we'll be able to plan with the other in mind. Are any of you planning to come with me to witness the Grail War?"

"Nobody's that stupid," Archer snarked, just as four hands shot into the air. Ozpin and my team looked at me with dead serious faces. Originally I was going to just sneak off in secret, but if worse came to worse then Ozpin would be an invaluable asset in the War and my team would at least be able to defend themselves for a few minutes until Lancer, Archer, Ozpin or I could get there and back them up. Hell, if they all worked together they might be able to defeat one of the Lesser Servants, with severe injuries sustained.

"Boy..." Archer said, shaking his head. "Your friends are idiots. They know they're going to get killed if they go out there, right?"

"You'd be surprised. Ozpin managed to fend off Herakles after I took three of his lives. He's the Saber of this War, by the way, and Cu Chulainn remains the Lancer. Of the other four, I have no clue. Are you getting the information from the Grail?"

Archer looked around and sniffed. It would make sense that he had the same prana sense as I did. "Yes," he began slowly. "Yes, I am. But we're not in Japan, are we? I don't sense Gaia, and there's no sign of a Reality Marble here. Are we in one of Zelretch's alternate dimensions?"

"It looks like it," I admitted. "I've been in here for around eight months." I idly flicked on a Circuit, Tracing a copy of my Codex and shoving it into his arms.

"Here, I'll give you this to study for a while. It's got all the data on me, Lancer and Saber."

I looked down at the Command Seals, frowning grimly. They still hadn't solidified, so not all of the Servants had been summoned yet. Judging by the lack of extreme reports of murder and the sudden disappearances of large portions of land from the Beacon GPS satellites, Caster and Berserker hadn't arrived yet, but that still left Rider and Assassin. Assassin was the one I was worried about the most, since they could very easily blend into society and kill me while my back was turned,. They would have a much harder time defeating someone like Archer, whose Danger Sense was at a B rank, but my teammates stood equally vulnerable, and I couldn't be sure about Ozpin.

"Where are we going to conduct the War?" Archer asked next. He stowed the Codex into one of the many hidden pockets on his coat.

"That's presumably what we're going to find out after all of the Servants are summoned," I explained, taking a seat at one of the spare desks. "Since there's no official Church here to mediate, we're settling with a member of the Burial Agency. He'll call all of the Masters together when the last Servant is summoned so we can decide on a place. The time has already been discussed; the War will begin the sunrise after the final Master and Servant arrive at the battle destination."

"Sounds complicated," Archer observed coolly. I bristled. I knew, despite the apparent innocence of his tone, that he was referring to my idiotic planning mistakes during the Fifth War.

"It was," I shot back. "Deciding on the time took a full three hours of discussion in the first place. I have the honor of helping to organize this time around, so at least we'll have a slight advantage."

Archer sighed, smirking a little. "You're more prepared than Rin, at the least. Alright, we'll work together on this one. I have no clue what caused Alaya to send me here anyways, so I might need a bit of help on that front. But- and this is a very big caveat- after this, you don't summon again. You don't involve yourself with anything that has a chance of bringing me into it. I've seen enough of my own face for a lifetime already."

"Deal." The two of us stretched out a hand and shook firmly. He tried to crush my hand, but I countered with my D rank Strength. He seemed surprised by my sudden increase in abilities.

"Alright, can somebody tell us what's going on here?" Blake blurted.

* * *

Deep in the slums of the city of Bulwark in the kingdom of Atlas, a young man peered at a circle in front of him. His eyes were dull, and a murky green that glinted with oily distrust. His ragged hair swayed at shoulder length, just barely restrained by the dirty white cap on his head. His grin was predatory, and he brushed off a stray bit of dust on the sleeve of his torn coat.

"Well, Magnus, what have you stumbled upon this time..." he whispered aloud. Being a... connoisseur of Dust and its various incarnations, it was no surprise that he recognized the glowing blue chalk that made up the circle. What was most interesting was the circle's shape. It seemed almost mythical in nature, nothing like the ritual circles used to channel Aura in the past.

Magnus brushed his fingers on the edge of the circle, clearing a stray bit of trash. Despite being smack in the middle of a landfill, the circle was untouched by filth. If anything, it seemed to repel the mud and dirt with its purity. Magnus smiled and lifted the small switchblade he carried everywhere. It was a keepsake, a remnant of his former life of wealth and luxury.

With a keen eye and a strong grip, Magnus began whittling away at the circle. The Dust was hard to extract from the layer of trash it had cemented on, but it still came away bit by bit. Dust was worth a fortune in Atlas, especially in the slums of Bulwark, where the stuff was integral to running household appliances and there wasn't enough to go around. He extracted a dirty vial from a pocket of his coat and set to work carefully picking up the remnants of the circle.

"Shit!" he snarled. The knife had slipped uncharacteristically, cutting a thin slice into his palm. He flung the droplets aside and picked the knife from the dirt with his other hand. He wasn't as well versed in using a knife with his left, but it saved the wound on his right from the risk of infection.

The circle, unnoticed by him, rippled outwards and began to glow softly, pulsating in the evening light.

The gray of the landfill's filtered light suddenly became awash with blue, and Magnus yelped, scrambling away from the Dust as fast as he possibly could.

"Did I set it off?" he asked himself, prepared to fight a deluge of the artificial water.

It never came.

The circle shone brighter and brighter, but it still never coalesced into the veritable sea that Magnus was used to seeing formed. Instead, a small figure, lithe and thin, rose out of the circle's depths, almost hidden by the blinding light.

Finally, the aqua shimmer faded, and Magnus got a clear look at whatever had just been summoned from the portal. She was only four feet tall or so, but her outfit and expression clearly signalled that she had seen her fair share of battle. It consisted merely of a small, bra-like wrapping and a short skirt to protect her modesty. On her wrists were two thin bands, upon which hung two grisly butcher's knives. She looked up at him, and all of a sudden he felt afraid. The little girl (for she was a little girl- no older than ten) had deep, vibrant green eyes that once rippled with life. Now, though, they were as dull as her matte-black hair.

"Upon your summoning, I have come forth," she intoned solemnly, fixing him with a stare that was neither warm nor cold. "I am Servant Assassin. Tell me, are you my Master?"

Magnus could only respond with a surprisingly intelligent "Huh?" before he collapsed to the ground, unconscious from a combination of lack of Aura and sheer confusion.

* * *

The great city of Astria had many things going for it. It was a post-war city, progressive in its laws and rulings, and had a variety of inhabitants spanning human, Faunus, and a truly impressive array of flora and fauna subspecies. It was the least touched by the Grimm's influence as well. The few that lived there were amphibian Grimm that somehow managed to cross the ocean and the avian Grimm that roamed the planet.

The city stood tall and proud on the banks of the heavily forested Menagerie. Its sapphire towers glinted in the sunlight, sending sparkling rays down on the streets. It was unquestionably the most prosperous city in all of Remnant.

It was also the most ridiculed.

For years after the Faunus Rights Movement, anti-Faunus protesters had vandalised the city, tearing down buildings and throwing graffiti all over the place. The perpetrators were stupid enough to declare that it was they who committed the crimes, and were promptly booted out with a promise of deadly force if they were to ever return. Over time, the vandalisms gradually disappeared, but the tension remained. Astria opened its own Hunting academy, albeit a very small one, that specialized in combat against other sentient beings. The Huntsmen and Huntresses of Astria were renowned for their hand-to-hand combat skills and their craftiness, and often scorned for doing whatever it took to get their job done.

Including taking innocent lives.

One such Huntress, a snake Faunus by the name of Sesha Antnaa, stood in front of a blackboard, inspecting her newest creation. She had retired from the ranks of Grimm fighters several years ago, choosing instead to teach and research in her impressive age of fifty-five. Her fingers nimbly traced chalk across the board. Line after line was completed with expert precision, a dexterity learned from two decades of wielding a needle-thin lance.

"But why..." she whispered, her forked tongue slurring the words slightly. The circle she had traced didn't follow any of the conventional rules of Dust crafting, and neither did it hold any cultural significance to her mind. So why had it appeared on her board three days prior, refusing to be erased?

At first she thought it had been one of her more superstitious students. Faunus were usually staunch believers in some form of religion or another, converted after the atrocities of human anti-Faunus attacks on their homes. That thought was dispelled, however, when she noticed it collecting the Aura that rookie students naturally gave off as they began to harness their inner powers. It was a curious artifact, one that she tried to decipher with no avail.

She finished tracing the circle again, thickening the lines of chalk that stretched from one end of the squared chalkboard to the other. The lines had been drawn over more than a hundred times at that point. The lines rippled with energy, faintly blooming with light. The final tap was placed, and with a thread of her Aura, she activated the circle's stagnant pools of energy.

The great eruption of light exploded almost instantly from the chalkboard, flipping it so the circle was parallel to the floor. Sesha hissed and instinctively hid her sensitive eyes from the blast. Heat radiated from the circle, so intense that it warmed her tougher skin even from thirty feet away. Nearby, a few sheets of paper smoldered and crackled.

The light faded, and Sesha looked back. A man was looking back at her, deep violet eyes meeting midnight blue. He was bald, save for a thick fringe of hair braided into a rope that wrapped around his forehead like a crown. His armor, gleaming silver, reminded her of an old Atlan knight, before the days of Dust and Huntsmen. A pair of engraved horses adorned his pauldrons. He had a strong jaw and a thick-set brow, and his expression conveyed a cold and uncaring nature.

He rose to full height and stared her down. Two decades of training ingrained into her very being warned Sesha that she could possibly face this absolute monster in battle. Then he spoke, and his voice rumbled like the shaking thunder.

"Upon your summoning, I have come forth," he boomed. "I am Servant Rider. Tell me, are you my Master?"

* * *

"So why are we here again, Rho?"

"I keep telling you, Phi, there's got to be buried treasure around here. Look around, this place is perfect for treasure hunts!"

Two young children walked among a rocky outcropping, looking over the ground with interest. Philemon and Rhodes Colosso were two orphaned twins, brought to Vale by a kind nun who worked in the Lumen Orphanage. They "escaped", as Phi would later say, from a group of Grimm worshippers who were poised to sacrifice them for the glory of their god, Acra, and went on their way to the wilderness.

Somehow, the twins managed to survive for two years in the wild, mostly avoiding Grimm and learning the skills necessary to find food and shelter. They didn't mind all too much, but in the end they were both happy when they could find an inn on the outskirts of a city to sneak into once or twice a month.

"Oh," Phi said, scanning the ground once more. "But there isn't any treasure here. I mean, who would hide their treasure on the side of a cliff?"

"It's so nobody can get to it but them, idiot!" Rho snapped, dropping to his knees and clearing away dust. His brother joined him, and soon the both of them were dirty. Rho's bloodshot eyes glanced over an inconspicuous patch of white marking the ground. He tried to brush it aside and continue digging for some sort of treasure, but the white marks refused to budge. A blooming sense of excitement enveloped him.

"Phi, look at this!" he called. His brother, a scant twenty feet away, came leaping over to rest at his side. In eerie unison, the two began swiping away dust, revealing a circle.

This circle was confusing: it was inlaid with dozens of other shapes and inscriptions in an intricate set of lines. It spanned a twenty foot expanse on a flat sheet of shale beneath their feet, perching on the precarious edge with serene and eccentric beauty.

The two pressed the tips of their fingers on the chalk, afraid that they would scrape the chalk off of the shale.

A roar sounded behind them, and they turned, flinching.

An Ursa, twelve feet tall and more than half that height wide, stalked towards them with the ease of a predator that knew they had cornered their prey. Its bony spikes glinted in the morning light. A flicker of fear, no shorter than an instant, erupted in the twins' eyes, but that was enough for the Grimm to sense its prey's demise.

The Ursa barrelled forward, storming towards its victims. Unbeknownst to the twins, the circle behind them emitted a soft white light, reacting to their fear and reaching out for something that could alleviate it.

The Ursa charged, and the circle flashed with incandescent light.

"Petra tis Fotias!"

A blast of raging fire erupted from behind the twins and crashed into the muscled Ursa, burning it to ash where it stood. The twins turned in amazement.

Behind them, a man stood tall and proud. He was bald, but his beard was a thick and flowing silver. His green eyes glinted in the morning light, and his olive skin took on a healthy golden pallor. Most of his body, obviously thin of frame, was hidden by a deep purple robe tied with golden thread. The sleeves were imprinted with a golden pair of olive laurels, and on his hands were a number of multicolored rings.

He looked down at the crumbling Grimm with interest. "What a curious creature..." he mumbled. "I wonder if the spines may be taken for chemical changes, or are they a natural part of the bone structure? And this hide... quite fascinating indeed. I will need to find a few more for my studies."

"Excuse me?" Rho asked. The man jumped, as if startled.

"Ah, I'm terribly sorry!" exclaimed. "I tend to get quite caught up in fascinating things. Please hold out your right hands, if you would."

Confused, Rho and Phi did as the man asked, showing them their bare and dirty hands. He turned them over, checking the back for... something. "Ah!" he said again, holding out Phi's hand. There, on the back, was a star-shaped emblem in red, cut into three specific sections. Rho looked over it, confused. Since when did his brother have a tattoo?

"In accordance to the summoning rites, then, I'll complete this ritual," the man continued, no longer paying attention to Rho and focusing solely on Phi. "I suppose it's fine to get the formalities over with, then? As pertaining to your will, I have been summoned. My name is Zosimos of Athens, Caster in this Sixth Holy Grail War. I ask of you, are you my Master?"

Phi, completely dumbstruck, could only respond with the thing his subconscious was telling him: a half-intelligible "Yes". The man- Zosimos, they reminded themselves- smiled brightly, revealing his slightly flat teeth.

"Wonderful! Now, when is the War going to start?"

* * *

A young woman smiled, bringing the edge of her beret towards her curled hair as she beheld the work at her feet. She'd gotten an anonymous tip the week before that there was some sort of ritual one could perform with Dust and a weird circle that would summon a servant to grant your wishes. Now, at first she would have simply disregarded the rumor and gone on with her high society life, but after seeing the hulking man her tip had brought with her, she decided to reevaluate.

She leaned back, inspecting her circle for any flaws. There were none that she could see, although the lines where she had changed over to lightning Dust because she'd run out of fire did look a bit smudged. She quickly fixed that and continued her inspection. Her hundred-Lien brown leather jacket swayed lightly in the breeze. It was cold outside and the white marble of her room was clearly visible in the equally bright moonlight. Under a pair of designer sunglasses, her eyes glinted.

It was time to begin.

The girl started the chant that was given to her. The drain on her Aura was noticeable and immediate, eventually dropping at a steady and manageable pace. She continued speaking, forcing more power through the saturated circle. The inscribed ring rippled with light, throwing luminescent beams of energy through the air.

"Guardian of the Heavenly Scales!"'

The explosive ray of light blinded her for a moment, even through her glasses. When she turned back, the circle was gone, and a man was standing in its place.

He stood tall and proud, looking at the world through analytical and squinted eyes. He had caramel colored skin that the girl grinned slyly at. His features were squat, with a bulbous nose and smooth cheeks. His black hair was streaked through with some sort of red powder and several feathers. His robes, made of deer leather dyed with lines of vibrant green and red, billowed out in the breeze. Several clay bead bracelets hung from his wrists, reaching almost to the floor.

The man gazed at her with crimson eyes. "I have come forth, in accordance to your desires," he said. His voice was smooth and light, like a gust dancing through the branches of a forest. "I am Servant Berserker. Tell me, are you my Master?"

Coco Adel smirked. "Yes, I am. But before we do anything, I'll need a cup of tea. Preferably herbal."

* * *

It took a few hours of work, but eventually all of were packed and ready to go. Ozpin and I were bringing nothing but the clothes on our backs, mostly because I could Trace anything like clothing or spare weapons with ease and Ozpin... well, I didn't know why he was going in bare, but he must have had some semblance of a plan. Blake, Ruby and Ren politely declined my offer of Tracing them clothes and brought light suitcases. There was a wallet stuffed full of Lien and a debit card each in our pockets, in case the War took place in a populated city.

I locked the last of my journals in Ozpin's personal safe and turned to Archer. He was looking out over the city of Vale with a keen eye. There was something resembling a smile on his face. I'd given him the rundown on Grimm and the Hunting profession, and he'd looked distinctly excited when I did.

Maybe he was looking forward to letting loose?

"Before we go," he began, cutting me of my reverie. "There's something that's been bugging me. Why is it that I can Trace Excalibur and Vasavi Shakti here? That kind of materialization should be impossible."

"I don't know," I admitted. "But the two have to be made of something. The material must occur on this planet somewhere."

"Do you think if you find it, you could show me the blade? I know we're decent with a blacksmith's forge, at least."

"I'll try," I said, and with that there was nothing more to be said. The two of us made our way through the quiet alabaster walls. All of the students were either in classes or on missions, so there was nobody to see us off except for the odd teacher. Glynda wished us good luck on our journey and went on her way, probably to start working on all of the paperwork that Ozpin had been neglecting for who knows how long.

The rest of my team were waiting for us at the front door. Mr. Dawn told us all that the deciding was typically announced at a formal party held by the overseers, so we were all in our best dress. I wore a set of elaborate robes, a pair of gilded hakama pants, and a goldenrod haori coat emblazoned with a sword on its back. Archer was in almost the exact same attire, only his was more of a red-themed ensemble. Blake wore a black slip tied with an amber sash that I'd Traced over her regular clothes. Her eyes burned with clear confidence, further enhanced by the loop of silk holding her bangs and back-length hair away from the golden orbs. She admittedly looked stunning, only a little ways away from traditional beauty. The only real difference between the two was her eyes and, of course, her facial features. Japanese women tended to have bird-like slants to their angles, while Blake's were more reminiscent of the cat heritage she wore. Her feline ears twitched left and right, following the sounds of swishing fabric in the air. She looked at me as I approached, and smiled hesitantly.

"You clean up well," she said, nodding at me. I smiled in return.

"As do you." We both rubbed the backs of our heads. It was a habit she'd begun picking up from me a few months into our time at Beacon, and over time we'd just gotten used to it.

"Can we finally go now?" Ruby asked from my left. "My feet are starting to hurt. Can somebody tell me how Ice Princess actually manages to fight in these?"

Her voice tuned out of my attention as I looked her over. She was dressed in a more extravagant style of dress, a flowing, glittering ruby gown that hugged her form and billowed out at the end. It cleanly accentuated the red highlights in her hair, making Ruby as a whole seem much more ethereal than she usually looked. The dress wasn't quite so suited to her small frame than someone of, say, Yang's proportions, but it fit her well enough to pass as upper-class. Her pair of glittering high heels sparkled when she walked, creating the illusion of Dust dancing about her feet. Overall, it was an attentive display, one that wouldn't bore anyone for a long while.

"Alright, here's what we're going to do," Ozpin said as he boarded the Bullhead that was going to take us to the meeting place, courtesy of the airship guy with the nice leather. He was wearing, like Ren, a simple green three-piece with his cane in his left hand. "We'll go in, be courteous to all of the other Masters, learn the rules from Mr. Dawn, and begin the War. Before that time, nobody should be out of either mine, Archer's or Shirou's sight, understand? From the information Shirou and Lancer have given me, the Assassin class is notorious for targeting Masters instead of Servants, and they're called Assassins for a good reason."

"We'll meet up with Lancer and the Warner siblings at the feast," I continued. "After that, we'll retire to designated rooms for the night, and come dawn, the Grail War will have officially begun. Don't get yourselves killed out there, any of you. Blake, Ruby, Ren, if you have to go anywhere, go together. Traditionally the Grail War is only played at night, but since there are so many options on Remnant to choose from it's likely that the Burial Agency will pick an abandoned city with no civilians to get caught in the crossfire. Some of the Servants you may be able to defend against for a short while, but if you run into someone like Saber or Berserker, run as fast and as far as you can."

My teammates nodded, completely serious. It wasn't that often when all four of us were stone-faced, but when we were our teamwork increased exponentially. I thanked whatever gods watching over Remnant for having such a dependable team.

For once, my motion sickness didn't act up when the airship took off. I didn't even need the pills to make it all the way to the undisclosed island that Mr. Dawn had instructed our pilot to fly. Maybe it was the solemnity of the situation, maybe it was the fact that the Grail War was bringing up the bad memories in both Archer and I. I wasn't quite sure, and at the moment, I couldn't quite bring myself to care.

* * *

For what it was worth, the Burial Agency really went all out when it came to accommodating their guests.

The manse that stood in front of us was four stories tall, and built in the style of a Roman house, with soaring arches and towering columns. It also quite comfortably doubled as a fortress, with crenelles for archers or gunners to shoot from, a front gate made of solid titanium bars, and enough room to house more than three hundred soldiers.

At the front, two Church Executors greeted us. They bowed as we went past, their red cloaks concealing their faces. It didn't matter if their faces were visible, anyway; Archer and I knew that the gold and ivory crosses strung around their necks were indicators of being under the direct employ of the Pope himself. Chances were that they could each take on a lower-class Servant and survive without losing any limbs.

I frowned when we passed them. I never did agree with the Church, mainly because they despised Kiritsugu for being such an effective freelancer. I could feel them gripping their Black Keys as Archer and I stepped by them, and in return Archer and I released a slightly greater amount of prana. It was a tense stalemate that froze all four of us for a fraction of a second.

It was enough for Ozpin and Blake to notice anyway.

Without preamble or even the slightest bit of hesitation, Blake grabbed my wrist and pulled me back into step. "Don't cause too much trouble," she whispered to me. I nodded, abashed, and continued on my way.

Mr. Dawn was sitting on the steps in the antechamber to the manse, his sunglasses pushed all the way to the bridge of his nose. "Ah, if it isn't Emiya and his Archer!" he exclaimed, rising to slap the both of us on the back. "Go ahead to the dining hall. Assassin, Rider, Lancer and their Masters have already arrived. It would do well for you to wheedle as much information out of them as you can during dinner. Another member of the Burial Agency will preside over the meal, so any questions you have afterwards can be redirected to her."

"Alright," I said. Archer and I took the lead, bringing everyone else into the dining hall. Mr. Dawn's words, and the actions of the Church members, revealed enough information to give some serious thought about the upcoming War.

The most predominant problem was the identity of the Burial Agent in the dining hall. Mr. Dawn had identified them as a she, and as far as I knew the only female member of the Burial Agency that was currently alive was Ciel. That meant that Zelretch was purposefully continuing the barbaric practices he had helped start in this world. Ciel being here wasn't as big of a problem as it could have been, but I'd never met the girl, and if I had it wouldn't have been on the nicest of occasions. She could be a devastatingly useful ally, if her combat prowess was enough to go by, but she could also be an incapacitating enemy. Her greatest strength lay in her weapon, the Seventh Scripture of the Burial Agents, but she was powerful even without it, her entire body enhanced to almost Servant-like levels by a variety of Runes tattooed on her skin.

My thoughts flickered away from Ciel and towards the newest Servants. Berserker and Rider were complete unknowns at that point, but hopefully their armor or robes would be enough of an indicator for me to discern what type of Heroic Spirit they were- that is, if they were human legends or mythical Divines. It didn't help that Casters and Riders had a tendency to be Anti-Heroes, people who didn't quite fit the bill of a hero but got into a legend anyway, like Medusa and Gilles de Rais. Assassin usually was one of the 23 Hassan-I-Sabbah, so I'd at least have a one in twenty three chance of encountering them before.

The oaken doors to the dining hall drew open slowly, and I took in everything I could at a glance. The three Servants were standing as far away from each other as they possibly could, weapons hidden away as a show of temporary peace. The Masters, on the other hand, were commingling quite cheerily with a few groups of Executors. I spied Tabitha's dark sheet of hair from next to Lancer as she eagerly asked a stubbly Executor about something related to Air Magecraft. A ratty man, maybe twenty or twenty one, was leaning against a wall, palming a Dust crystal as a sort of threat. The third Master, a lizard-like Faunus woman with the beginnings of wrinkles on her face, was communicating with three other female Executors over a cup of tea. Everybody looked over at us when we arrived. The reactions, however, varied.

"Jaune!" Tabitha called, surging forward to wrap her arms around my waist. I patted her lightly on the head and glanced at the other Masters. The man near the wall gave me a suspicious glance and a small nod, while the Faunus woman smirked and waved politely. I returned the gestures, careful not to make any sudden movements.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here, Emiya?" One of the Executors growled. I winced at the word hell; the realm of the Dark Gods was not something that the Executors, and the Church in general, took very lightly. I must have gotten in some serious shit during the Grail War to be given the "blasphemed on contact" order.

At the name Emiya, every Executor stopped and whirled, this time bringing their Black Keys with them. Only one remained still. I recognized the soft features and the ocean blue hair of Elesia, now known as Ciel, instantly.

"Get him!" one ordered. "Make him pay for his crimes!" The mob of red surged forward as one. I set Tabitha to the side and gave Archer and Ciel a small, almost imperceptible nod. It wasn't always the best idea to show off your moves before the battles even started, but by revealing my superhuman strength and speed, I could pass off as a Servant for a few hours at the least, maybe a few days at most. Nobody would have any idea it was actually me who was the Master, and since Servants only usually went for Servants, I could divert attention away from my team and towards myself.

Then I remembered that Saber and Cinder knew who I was, and that idea went straight down the toilet.

In one fluid motion, the three of us acted. I brought forth Nine Lives' stone-sheathed form and swept outwards, creating a supersonic shockwave of air that blasted a dozen Executioners off their feet. At the same time, Archer summoned a copy of Spatha, the original Roman sword used by Romulus to kill Remus. The sword unleashed a black wave of ethereal blood that blasted his own opponents back, while Ciel practically teleported into the battle zone. She moved like a hurricane in the one-and-a-half seconds it took for our point to be made, punching, kicking and twisting to produce the maximum amount of force possible.

"That's enough!" she snapped, bringing the untouched Executioners out of their reverie. The ones we'd attacked were all, without fail, knocked out cold, but the conscious group froze at the disapproving sound of her voice. "Shirou Emiya is staying as a participant of this War, not one of your targets," she continued. "If this foolishness is to continue then I will personally declare him under my protection from the Church for the remainder of our stay here."

"But Miss Ciel-gack!" The person who spoke up, a young man with a short mop of blond hair, was on the ground and groaning with pain before he even finished his sentence.

Ciel smiled and cracked her knuckles ominously. "Any more questions?" she asked. The few remaining Executioners shook their heads and carted their co-workers off to the guest rooms, most of them shaking in palpable fear.

Ciel turned and smiled at me. "It seems you haven't changed since the last War, Emiya," she said, gripping my forearm tightly. "Still causing trouble wherever you go."

"It's a habit," both Archer and I said at the same time. We shared a small frown before turning back to Ciel. "What are you doing here, anyways? The Burial Agency pretty much leaves you alone most of the time, so why would they call on you to help referee this match instead of someone like Zelretch?"

"Emiya, we both know that the Church doesn't want Zelretch anywhere near them at this point in history," Ciel deadpanned. "Besides, the Church wants you to win this for once."

"Beg pardon?"

"Yeah. I don't know what they're thinking either. It'd be hopeless without a grade-A Servant for you to have any hope of winning this." I frowned, to which she gave a teasing grin. "Seriously, though, the Church is a bit... inclusive in how they run things. They want the closest thing that's aligned to them to be winning the wars and making the decisions. And since you're the only Master here who originated on Earth, and wasn't born here on Remnant..."

"They want me for the reputation and the racism," I summarized. She nodded.

"By supporting you, they know that you'll owe them for a favor later, which they could use at any time. Aside from Zelretch, I'm the Burial Agent that's had the most contact with this place, so they sent me to help old Mr. Dawn referee the War. I came with specific instructions to give you, in particular, any and all assistance I can." She snorted, a surprisingly unladylike gesture for someone who looked so shy and demure at first glance. "I told them you wouldn't bother with help anyways. Shirou Emiya is the lone wolf, the one who protects rather than needs to be protected. Your name might as well be Knight."

"You have me there," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. "Still, it's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard of your work.."

"And yours as well. Now," she added, jerking her head towards the approaching Masters, "you have some visitors."

Ciel walked off before I had a chance to say another word, and the lizard Faunus stepped up to take her place. She examined my face for a moment before reaching out to turn my chin from side to side. "Hmm... you don't seem all that impressive," she observed. Hey, what the hell? "Who would have thought you would be a Servant? You're a bit on the scrawny side, too."

"I suggest you get your hand off my ally's face before I shoot it off," Archer snapped, his tone frosty and his bow already held in front of him. He wasn't saying that for my sake. No, he just wanted to be the one to kill me himself. Despite that speech he gave when I first summoned him, I could clearly feel the killing intent coming off him when he thought I wasn't paying attention. He even seemed startled by my ability to summon the bronze form of Nine Lives, which basically guaranteed that I wasn't this instance's past self. Still, I couldn't fault him for not being careless. An archer's first priority was making sure your target was dead, no matter what.

The Faunus woman sneered. "My Rider would intercept the shot before you even released the string."

The Assassin approached, shaking her head as she did so. The diminutive Assassin looked so out of place without a skull mask and a black uniform, courtesy of the Hassan-I-Sabbah that the Assassins usually came from. Her features were sharply angled, like those of a spirit's or a vampire's. "Wrong," she said shortly. "Archer is strong, and Rider is a slow Servant. He could kill you and the other Masters here and now." Something about the way she said Master confused me. It was like she was trying to say something over it, like some kind of overlapping effect on a computer program.

The woman snorted. "Likely. Why should I trust some kid to tell me about the capabilities of superhuman beings?"

"Because she's one of those superhuman beings," Archer and I pointed out in tandem. We exchanged another glare before returning our attention to the Faunus woman. "Shirou Emiya and Archer. And, for your information, I'm the Master, not a Servant."

"Impressive for a human to do so much damage to a group of Church-sanctioned Executioners," the Rider rumbled from behind his Master's back. "You're strong, boy."

"Very strong," a familiar voice quipped behind me. I didn't even need to turn around to know that Cinder and Herakles had arrived. Ozpin took in a sharp breath when he beheld the raven-haired stunner.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Oz?" she said softly as she approached. "When was the last time we met? Was it two years ago? Three?"

"Old hag," Archer muttered. A snicker recoursed through the room, although Cinder herself seemed to be unaffected by the insult. She merely flicked a harsh glare in his direction before continuing.

"And it looks like you finally summoned your Servant, boy," she remarked, turning to me. "I'll give you some advice: don't get in my way and I won't kill you right away. I find hunting my prey more... entertaining."

"Amusing," Archer quipped, steadying his bow once more. "Ber- Saber, calm your Master before I decapitate her."

Herakles stood and stepped in front of Cinder. "You will do no such thing, Archer," he said calmly. "With Lancer and the boy as well... This is quite a nostalgic meeting. Boy, what happened to Gilgamesh and the Saber girl? She was a supreme fighter, if I recall correctly. Her Noble Phantasm was truly beautiful."

"I ended up killing Gilgamesh in the end," I explained. Well, something like that anyway. "And that psychotic priest stabbed Saber with an Azoth Dagger. How are you faring?"

"I am well."

That was all that he said, so I turned towards the Rider. His steely eyes never left my face. "And how are you, Rider? Is acclimating to modern times more stressful than I expected it to be, or is it easy?"

"I suggest you keep your questions to me, and not my Servant," the lizard woman snapped. "Chances are you'll need it." She swept her silken black hair back and affixed me with a superior glance. "That goes to all of you. I'm assuredly the most experienced person here regarding wars, so if you have anything to ask me, then do it before we go into mortal combat."

Archer laughed. It was the first time I'd truly heard him laugh, and it was surprisingly innocent for such a jaded and cruel man. His voice cut short and he glared, hard, at the woman. "You're starting to piss me off, lady. For your information, three of us Servants participated in the previous War, and my current Master, Shirou Emiya, was the winner. I suggest you keep your mouth shut unless you have something useful to contribute. You may be a seasoned warrior, but you have no idea how these Wars really work. Leave the talking to us Servants and the veterans who have actually survived them."

The woman growled, but her Servant held her back with an arm. "He is correct, Master," the man boomed. "I have told you only a small part of what happens during the War. We may discuss strategy later, but please refrain from provoking the Knights."

"Knights?" Tabitha asked. I nodded.

"Yes, the Knight classes are a colloquial for the three classes that are considered the most powerful of the War," I told her, not caring that everyone else was also listening. "First are the Lancers, fearsome fighters with a propensity for sure-kill attacks and an immense Agility stat. The second are the Archers, those warriors with average stats but a diverse range of Skills and Noble Phantasms to use. Finally come the Sabers, the most outstanding of the seven Servants. They have high, balanced stats and are considered the most useful when fighting other Servants one-on-one."

"Well said, Emiya," Ciel remarked, stepping back into the room with Mr. Dawn at her side. She had a cigarette in her mouth, occasionally brightening before dimming again. The wispy smoke wafted between Archer and I, producing an alluring sweetness in my nose. That was definitely not regular nicotine.

"Indeed, and if you could all take your seats, the other competitors have arrived," Mr. Dawn continued. We did as instructed, Herakles and Rider struggling to fit into their own places, while the great double-doors opened up again.


	24. Apotheosis

**Chapter 24: Apotheosis**

The first of the pairs wasn't a duo, but a trio. Two identical boys stood at attention behind their wizened and fairly obvious Caster. He was dressed in elaborate robes of black and gold that were embellished with deep silver patterns. On his wrists were a pair of silver bangles, while seven differently-colored rings coated his fingers. The boys, on the other hand, I immediately pitied. They looked so innocent, with their blond hair sticking up in all directions and their wide blue eyes. The man watched the Servants warily, while the kids immediately locked onto Tabitha and I and gasped.

"Hey, there's another kid, Phi," one of them muttered. My ears, along with Archer's and apparently Herakles', found the sounds without a problem. I doubted the rest of them could hear the hushed conversation passed between the twins.

"Do you think she knows any more about this than we do?" The second one, apparently named Phi, asked. The first kid shook his head emphatically.

"Nah," he mumbled. "She looks pretty clueless."

Archer sniggered. I shot him a dark look that he rebutted with a glance of amusement.

The second pair were as relaxed as one could be. You could see it in the young woman's strutting gait and the older man's sloping shoulders. Every once in a while, his fingers would clench, as if trying to drive back some sort of pain. I whistled, impressed. It took a ridiculous amount of willpower to resist even E rank Mad Enhancement, and this man felt a great deal stronger than that. Nobody would be at the peak of their power in Remnant, solely because their Area of Influence didn't exist on this world, but that didn't mean Servants like Herakles and Cu Chullain couldn't destroy their opponents on the battlefield, and that now included this new Servant. What was a Berserker, after all, but another Servant with a boost? By staying that jump in stats, you essentially had a weaker Lancer, or Saber, or other Servant.

Whoever this girl was, she either had no idea what Mad Enhancement could do, or she was smart enough to leave it off. You could only activate the Skill once, and after that happened, there was no going back. The thing was, you could do it at any time. Activating Mad Enhancement in the middle of a battle could completely throw off an opponent's rhythm, enabling the Berserker to completely devastate a superior Servant.

The Master looked no older than eighteen. She was gorgeous, but in the "fashionable diva" sense in the word. Her clothes all looked designer, from the cocoa turtleneck draping off her shoulders to the coffee-brown beret atop her head. She looked familiar, but I couldn't be sure where I had seen her before. Her glittering topaz high heels clicked across the floor as she swaggered forward, a small smirk on her face. It was the look of a completely beautiful woman who knew how to use her looks to her advantage. It was also the face that Cinder had worn mere moments before Mr. Dawn and Ciel had interrupted our conversation.

Her Servant was more reserved in his walk. He wore floor-length robes of some sort of patchy fabric, as well as a deer-fur shawl around his shoulders and a metric ton of beaded jewelry. He was, without a doubt, Native American. It was usually hard to tell just who a Servant was by their looks- Saber was a good example. The Heroic Spirits were representations of their legends, the people who brought about such immense change and glory into the world that their names were passed down into the annals of history. That didn't mean that the changes the mortal world wrought on their legends were unnoticeable, though. For example, Servants were generally lighter-skinned than one would expect because of European race superiority's influence on the rest of the world, and the planet's overall fascination with swords knocked some of the other, more powerful weapons that Servants had out of the limelight. For example, Saber's Rhongomyniad, the spear that was blessed by the light of the Christian God himself, was nearly as powerful as Excalibur was. It was tossed out of most of the myths when the "romantic" notions of the sword set in during the Renaissance era, though.

All of those dilutions actually told people something about a Heroic Spirit's power, if you looked closely. The most powerful Servants, like Saber and Herakles, all looked mostly like their real-world counterparts; that is, they looked like they would ethnically. For this man to be so clearly Native American... it told a lot about his sheer strength as a Servant.

This was going to be a Berserker that would probably match up to Herakles' difficulty in fighting.

"It's a pleasure," the girl said with a smirk. "Coco Clouet, at your service."

"Isn't that..." Ruby began, a glimmer of recognition in her eyes.

"Yes, it's the leader of team CFVY," Ozpin observed. "Miss Coco Clouet, the heiress to a fashion design company. It seems her motivations to be a Huntress are simply for appearance, although her grades are just under par. She doesn't have much physical strength behind her, and her weapon is what does the real damage. It's a chaingun with a propensity for Dust bullets, but with your speed you should be fine."

I glanced back at Ozpin while the ratty man and the twins gaped at Coco. She was pretty, sure, but not that pretty. Besides, I had more important things to think about. Why would Ozpin willingly give out information about one of his own students? If anything, he should be zealously guarding that kind of information. Sure, some of that was public knowledge, but the weapon thing was a blatant hint. I'd learned a long time ago that if a person was powerful and supported a less powerful person, then the more powerful person almost always had an ulterior motive. Rin had done it, Kirei had done it, Ilya had done it, and especially Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh was a manipulative little bastard that was hopefully being rammed up the ass with Excalibur at the moment.

That stray bit of anger brought me to the two beings warring inside my Avalon. Honestly, I had no idea how it worked, but it was indeed happening. I had almost forgotten what it felt like at that point, but I could feel the Legend of King Arthur's infinitesimal drain on my prana as he brought death blow after death blow on the helpless King of Heroes.

It was really cathartic, to be honest.

I snapped myself back to attention as Mr. Dawn moved forwards. He sat at the end of the table, Ciel at his right, and motioned for us to take a seat. We did so, Ozpin at my left and Blake at my right. I wasn't the only one who seemed to realize that seating was extremely important, however. Coco and the lizard Faunus also sat with their Servants at their right. Sitting at the right was important in a formal meal, since it basically declared that that person was your go-to in case anything went wrong. I trusted Ozpin with a lot of things, my continued education being one of them, but when it came down to it I trusted Blake with my life more, as little as it mattered.

Did I mention that I hate politics? Because that was exactly what this dinner was turning out to be.

"I would like to begin by toasting this momentous occasion, and before we eat I wish to lay down a few ground rules," Mr. Dawn said. "Firstly, there is to be no fighting inside this manse, or the grounds around it. This is the safe zone of the War, and while you can come here to heal from grievous injuries, the Church and I will dismiss anyone looking to hole up here just to stay out of the War. You have been chosen, and willingly or not, you will participate."

There was a slightly stunted silence at his words, like a few people didn't quite believe that he was going to do that. "Secondly, the rules of the War are fairly simple: the last one alive wins. You may make any alliances you wish, you may only involve the other Servants and Masters in whatever diabolical schemes you're bound to think up, and you may only battle at night or in a secluded area. This island is still populated, so there absolutely cannot be any civilian casualties or the Huntsmen may take notice and make actions to prevent the end of the War. In my experience, that has only happened once, and it ended with a fire that consumed half of the host city and killed hundreds. If you do not wish to end up with more criminal infractions than you already have," and here he looked over his glass pointedly at Cinder, "I would suggest you keep the collateral damage to a minimum as well."

"Now that those are out of the way," Ciel continued, raising her glass. "To the Grail."

"To the Grail," everyone but Archer, Herakles and I repeated. I merely raised my glass, while Archer and Herakles didn't even bother touching theirs. Herakles was only in it because he had the misfortune of being summoned like he did, and Archer... Well, I already knew about Archer's dreams, and he wasn't going to use the Grail to do it.

The Grail was tainted anyway, so I'd have to come out on top. Nobody should have to go through All the World's Evils.

The meal began in earnest, and we spent the last few minutes of time we had being normal before the Grail War began. Tabitha started a small conversation with the twins, Rho and Phi, that mainly consisted of the two boys yelling about how cool the Servants were while Tabitha tried to fit in with people that weren't natural delinquents. The lizard Faunus, whose name I found out was Sesha, continued to glare and mull over the superiority of her Servant when compared to others. It appeared that, despite the superb reaction times and immense natural strength marking her as a veteran warrior, she still seemed to take everything at face value and never look underneath. There was no real measure of how powerful a Servant could be, and I'd been reminded of that during that very meal. Every Servant had an obligatory stat revealed at the time of their summoning, provided by the magic of the Codex I'd copied from my very brief interaction with Rin's. Assassin's B rank Strength stat definitely made me wary. What kind of little girl had such monstrous power, even in the Assassin class? What if she had been summoned as a Berserker instead of a cunning killer?

Yes, the Grail Wars were definitely wild cards.

I frowned as the meal went on, and I could feel the rising tensions as the entree was taken out and the dessert was served. Most of us were hasty to finish our meals and start planning, but the kids took their time enjoying the mint chocolate tart, setting us back by another ten minutes. Finally, when the last bite was scraped clean of the plates and the kids were content with their meals, Mr. Dawn stood up again. "Now that this meal has come to a conclusion, I would like you all to retreat to your rooms for tonight. Tomorrow morning, at dawn, will begin the Sixth Holy Grail War. You have until noon to vacate the premises and begin your hunts. Remember not to cause too much collateral damage, and most importantly, do not ever involve outside influences in this War, be they civilian or Huntsman. Please, have good dreams, and good luck in realizing your dreams!"

He stepped away from the table and out of the hall, Ciel following him dutifully. I stood as well. A glance to my team and Tabitha told them all that they needed to know.

It was time to start planning.

* * *

"Alright, here's how it's going to work," I said, laying out my gear on the luxuriously soft bed the Church had provided me. The bedroom we'd all gathered in was huge, even by the Japanese estate standards, lined with gold baseboards and alabaster walls. The beds were all king-size, even Tabitha's, and each one was draped with crimson sheets. They probably represented Christ's blood or something.

The Church puts symbolism in everything.

"Tabitha, I don't know if you've been notified, but the Grail has been tainted," I continued, giving Lancer a meaningful glance. He, if anyone here did, should know about the dark power found in the Grail.

"Tainted?" Blake asked, poking her head out of the bathroom door. Her collarbone was clear against her creamy skin, and the gentle slopes of her shoulders caught my attention for a moment before I turned my gaze back to a puzzled Tabitha and a wary Lancer. "What do you mean?"

"All the World's Evils," Lancer guessed, and I nodded. "It's a curse, though of what kind I don't know. Kid can probably tell you though."

"All the World's Evils is a curse that originated in the Third Grail War," I explained to nobody in particular. "Back then, there were still alternatives to Servants being used, like Alviss- golems, that is- and... other things. What the Einzbern summoned in that War was a god, one of the oldest in fact."

"Interesting," Opin remarked from his place on his bed. Somehow his sheets had become a deep forest green, but I refused to think of that. "You don't hear that many people talking about gods anymore. Most people either don't know about them, or think they've abandoned the planet."

Ah. I understood why the priests and nuns of the Lumen orphanage looked so out of place among normal people. After all, what point was there in worshipping a god that had put such monstrosities as the Grimm on Remnant? Those few people who stayed faithful must have either been insane or so devoutly religious it wasn't even funny. It was almost sad, knowing that the people of Remnant thought that the gods had abandoned them.

Then again, the gods had been mortal enemies with us, but at least they were there.

"Anyway," I continued, "the god was a being known as Angra Mainyu, the Zoroastrian embodiment of strife and pain. It somehow ended up winning the War, even though it had awful skills and a terrible stat pool. I'm not exactly sure on the details, because there aren't any records on how it actually happened, but Angra Mainyu somehow infused its essence with the Grail, becoming a tainted wish granting machine. For example, say you want to be the most beautiful person in the world..."

"Then it would disfigure everyone else's face," Ozpin surmised. "We have a legend somewhat similar in Remnant's society. There is supposedly a Grimm mask that has the potential to grant wishes, but at the expense of the happiness of everyone around you."

"It sounds like something the Grail would do," I said. "I've been through that sludge once, and I'm not doing it again. The things I saw in there, Ozpin... Some of them almost broke me for a while, I'll admit it. It's hard to stare the summary of all pain and suffering in existence without being as Distorted as I am."

It was true. Rin and Saber had nearly lost it, one as a genius mage with incredible willpower and one a king with decades of battle experience with her, merely by touching the black ooze that represented the curse. To be engulfed in it... only my sheer Distortion and resolve to keep everyone in Fuyuki safe kept me sane while I braved the meters of black sludge and the countless tortures that came with it. The rest of team SRBR, and probably even Ozpin, wouldn't stand a chance if something on that magnitude was ever released again, never mind Tabitha or those twins. The Servants would have better luck, but most of them probably had wishes already, and I couldn't stand back and allow them to be infected just like Gilgamesh had been.

I broke out of my thoughts when a warm hand clasped my shoulder gently. I looked into Blake's amber eyes, appreciating the warmth and concern in them for just a moment.

No, I couldn't let anything happen to these people.

"It seems like we have a long battle ahead of us, huh?" Lancer asked, smirking at Archer. The white-haired copy of me grinned in reply and spun Kanshou and Bakuya lazily between his fingers, leaning back on the mahogany stool he had seated himself upon.

"Who knows? Maybe I'll get to pay you back for that surprise attack back in Fuyuki."

"Alright you two, that's enough," I muttered, waving my hands at Tabitha to get the point across. Call me protective, but I'd never really had a little-sister figure in my life other than Ilya, and I wanted to fix all the wrongs I'd done by not being there when she needed me, all throughout her life. Archer must have seen something in her as well, because every time his slate eyes passed over her, he winced.

"Tabitha, I don't expect you to stick with me throughout the entire War, but stay with me when you can, alright?" I asked. She gave me a firm, determined nod in reply, and I turned to the others. "As long as the Church doesn't interfere, we should be fine. Blake, Ren, Ruby, you're going to be either in the shadows, watching out for a battle, or with me fighting against more Servants, right?" They each smiled and nodded. "Ozpin, you can do whatever the hell you want, just don't get captured."

Ozpin pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "Naturally."

I frowned at the ever-so-slight hint of smugness in his tone, but let it slide. He knew he was powerful, and likely only Herakles and maybe Archer would be able to give him a challenge on the battlefield. Lancer was faster than him by a large margin, but if he got the Irish hero's style down quickly, he would be in an even better position to win. I would keep him around while I could, in case Archer got outmatched by one of the Servants, but I couldn't boss him around. He was technically my superior, after all.

After that, there really wasn't much talking to be done. While Servants couldn't sleep, Archer and Lancer did seem to enjoy it, so I sent them off to bed with the rest of my group. They went along begrudgingly, until I told them that they could likely sneak out and grab a bite to eat from the remains of the feast.

They left considerably more quickly than before.

I looked out on the balcony at the sole mountain on the island. It seemed small, only eighty kilometres from end to end, but the island gave off a bad feeling. It was probably the Grail, but I still didn't like it that much.

"You're awake, then." Blake's voice rang like a chime behind me, and I turned to face her. Her nightclothes were every bit as her as her usual outfit, consisting of a velvet bathrobe and pants. Her bow was stowed away in her pocket, the corner peeking out from under her hand. I invited her to take the chair next to me, which she did, and then there was silence.

"Yeah," I answered eventually. "You know I can stay up for days without any performance drop, remember?"

"I couldn't forget even if I tried," Blake agreed, a small smile coming to her face. It seemed to agree with her, unlike the small, unsure frown that was on her

face most of the time during our early months at Beacon. "How are you feeling? Nervous, angry, satisfied?"

"Nervous, mostly," I admitted, finding a small amount of comfort in the hand she placed on my arm. Her slender digits were just as cool as I remembered them, but they warmed my skin in the colder pre-winter air. "It hasn't even been a year since the last Grail War, and it was the worst few weeks of my life. I wonder if something even worse will happen this time around, that maybe even more people will die. There are too many what ifs, too many variables to keep track of... I can't keep up with all of it, even if I try my best and stay out of the fighting."

"Then don't," Blake said softly, soothing my increasingly loud list with a gentle rub of my arm. She scooted a bit closer. "Ruby, and Ren and I, and even Ozpin are here with you. We'll stay out of trouble if you want us too, but we're here for you, even if you don't want us to be."

I chuckled softly. "I've already lost that argument, Blake. I don't need to be reminded of it."

For a moment, all was quiet. "Thanks, Blake."

"Sure, Shirou."

I wasn't quite sure whether it was her or me that started it, but the next thing I knew there was a pair of lips pressed gently, so softly that I could barely feel them, against my own. Blake shifted into my chair so that she was sitting in my lap and increased the intensity of the kiss with almost painful slowness. I was never one to react quickly outside of battle, but I slipped my arms around her waist and pulled her even further into our tight embrace.

There wasn't much passion in the moment, but enough emotion passed between us to make up for it. Honestly, I wasn't even sure when I'd fallen for Blake, but it had to have been in there somewhere, with all the recent hand-holding and soft nudges. It was almost like Rin, but not quite. Where Rin would have desperately held onto me like a lifeline in the churning turmoil of the Grail War during those brief moments of insecurity, Blake stood independent of my influence, a sentinel of hidden emotion that patiently waited to burst forth.

After what felt like a good five minutes, we separated, both of us smiling. "When?" Blake asked.

"Probably when you tried talking me out of my Distortion. You?"

"When you accepted me as a Faunus," she replied in turn. I wrapped an arm around her as she stirred to push her back against my chest, laying on me. Her warmth was comforting, unlike the cool depths of the night.

"What about everything with Jaune?" I asked. Not all of this was adding up, but I wasn't complaining. Blake rolled her eyes.

"Just because you lied to us about your name and past doesn't mean it still wasn't you I was talking to," she explained. "I was under the impression that I knew Jaune Arc, true, but I also thought you were Jaune Arc. In the end, no matter whether your name is Shirou Emiya or Jaune Arc, you're still you, and I like you.

Myrtenaster bloomed with contented calm somewhere in the edges of my perception, and for a single moment, the world felt as soothing as my days before the Grail War, where my free time was spent not researching Servants and nearly getting killed, but practicing my archery and conversing with Sakura and

Taiga.

It may not have been much, but I still treasure that single second of pure happiness to this day.

After a while of just talking to each other, enjoying each others' presences, Blake dropped off to sleep. The only sign that she'd fallen into the realms of Hypnos was a slight hitch in her breathing pattern that quickly resumed itself and the lack of words coming from her mouth. I stayed awake for a few minutes longer. The cracked moon stood sentinel against the impending darkness. In the streets below, I could see the faint outlines of a few men and women patrolling the pavement. They were either Huntsmen and Huntresses or police, two factors that we'd have to be careful to avoid during our stay.

I still didn't know where we were, but if there was a population, then Ozpin undoubtedly knew about it. He wasn't one of the strongest and smartest men on the planet for no reason, after all. The name and location of the island would be vital, based on the resources to be found, the amount of Huntsmen around that were capable of defying the Church's lead Executors and two members of the Burial Agency (because if someone like Ozpin existed, then so must they), even if there were any prana-sensitive people here that could see Astralized Servants. This was a War that I was prepared for, a War that was, in part, my fault, and I refused to be the clueless idiot that I was the last time. With my team, Ozpin, Tabitha and now an entire island to protect, I needed every advantage on my side. There were hundreds of factors that went into a War, and depending on if the Caster now was like the Caster from back then or if Berserker was as easily swayed to switch sides as Rider had been, the end results could end up very differently.

Then there were the Masters themselves. The twins looked fairly harmless, and while Tabitha knew a few E and D ranked spells, she didn't have the proficiency or the training with prana to use them effectively. They were harmless, but the rest of the competitors were most certainly not. Coco Clouet was a Huntress-in-training, a year above us and on Velvet's team. I didn't want her dead, mostly for Velvet's sake, but defeating Berserker without killing the Master behind it was not a productive option. The Master of Rider, Sesha Antnaa, was a trained Huntress. That put her at the level of someone like an Executor, someone who could fend off a Servant for a scant few moments while reinforcements arrived to finish them off. The mystery boy that held mastery of Assassin was much the same way. From his ratty clothing and his disheveled appearance it was easy to tell that wasn't all that used to formal events, and he held himself with a wariness that would make it hard to gain his trust. Cinder was clearly at a Servant's level already, probably able to match the twins' Caster spell for spell. She would probably put herself up against Ozpin during the War, judging by the enmity between them. I wasn't sure who would come out of top, since the last battle between a Saber and a Caster ended in more of a draw than anything else, but there was always the possibility that between Herakles and Cinder, Archer, Ozpin and I would end up defeated or dead. I knew that compared to some Servants and Gilgamesh I was strong, but when I faced off against the Prince of Heroes I would be severely outmatched unless I could raise my stats and prana levels to incredible abilities. The Curse of the Dweeb would break in less than a week, so that would be the optimal time to face off with the duo, but until then we were better off waiting for the competition to be picked off and facing off against the Rider and Caster.

"Ugh, why can't my life ever be normal?" I grumbled, getting to my feet. Blake was scooped effortlessly into my arms, and I gently set her in her bed before clambering into mine. Sleep followed quickly, but my dreams were still plagued with fire and swords.

* * *

"Let the Grail War..." Mr. Dawn said, staring out at the rising sun climb over the oceanic horizon west of the island of Patch. Gold skimmed the foamy tips of the waves, creating a spun-gold effect on the sea below. Ciel stood beside him, her Seventh Scripture at the ready. "...begin."

He turned around and stalked back into his chambers, where a Bible lay open to a particular page. He glanced down at the words given to him by the Pope, pondering their meaning. He had always been a queer man, but his esoteric practices often had a strong meaning behind them.

"'I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven'," he repeated, thinking over the words.

There was much work to be done.

* * *

My eyes snapped open at exactly nine o'clock in the morning, ready for whatever would come next. The beds next to me were empty; it seemed that Ozpin and Blake had already awoken. Ren was in his bed, but he was awake by his lack of flickering eyelids and his slightly irregular breathing. Ruby and Lancer's light snores indicated their tiredness, while Archer was staring at the ocean from the balcony and Tabitha was in the kitchenette, reaching futilely for the high-set cupboards.

"We'll get something to eat in a few minutes," I told her, rising from my bed. She turned on a dime and smiled widely at me.

"I spoil you, don't I?" I asked her. All she did was beam at me and nod before scurrying back to her bed to curl up under the covers. I sighed. It might have been some sort of natural paternal instinct breaking out, but Tabitha and her brother really had grown on me during my time on Remnant. I turned to the window opening to the balcony. The sun crested over the waves below, throwing spooled threads of light into my eyes. I blinked, trying and failing to acclimate my eyes to the sight. In the far distance, too far for most normal humans to see, the miniature outline of a hazy city crept up over the horizon line. So at least we weren't on one of the remote islands, like Stitch or the Needle archipelago. The only places with buildings like that were the four main city-states and the academies of Hunting. That narrowed down the list considerably, but I still wasn't too familiar with the world of Remnant's geography, so I couldn't be positive of where we were.

Blake stepped out of the bathroom door, a towel wrapped around her lithe form. Her jet black hair framed her face limply. "Morning," she said as she crossed the room in two swift strides.

"Morning," I returned, Tracing my usual black body armor over my pajamas. Gilgamesh's Altered armor followed suit, leaving me protected by two layers of Noble Phantasm-level armor that could stop pretty much anything short of a B rank Noble Phantasm blast.

Blake turned back around and pulled me in for a short kiss, her clothing still a bit rumpled from being slept in last night. The gesture seemed so simple and casual that it stunned me a bit afterwards, but by the time I got back to thinking, she was already darting towards the kitchen for breakfast. I guessed that was going to be a normal thing from that point on.

I followed her inside, automatically Tracing a rice cooker and flicking through the cupboards. I found everything to make a traditional Japanese breakfast and more and quickly set to work. In less than ten minutes, there was a flurry of activity in the kitchen. Blake and Tabitha, passable chefs at that point, assisted in cutting and chopping things while I worked in all of the small touches, including the substitute for soy sauce that I'd managed to synthesize at the Arc household. Ruby, Ren and the others walked in to the three of us putting the finishing touches on breakfast. Archer smirked in appreciation for the breakfast from his homeland, while Lancer quirked an eyebrow and the ever-lethargic-when-sleepy Ruby began to drool. We set the plates on the table and began our meal.

"So, we have two options," I said after some time had passed. "We can either find a hiding place first and find supplies second, or do it the other way around."

"let's find our hideout first," Archer said. "It'll be easier to establish a base of operations if there aren't many Servants running around the place."

Nobody else objected, so after breakfast was done and over with, we headed out of the manse and towards the main road to the city that lay beyond the reach of Grimm. Mr. Dawn and Ciel both nodded to me on my way out.

The second we exited the manse property I bolted, the rest of our group following in quick succession. I didn't go as fast as possible, mainly to allow Tabitha and Ren to keep up with the rest of us, but we still got to the city limits in record time. It was a small conglomeration of buildings that mixed brick and concrete with more modern steel and glass. Why they had a glass skyscraper in the middle of a city when the main population of the island were avian Grimm, I had no clue, but that was just one more location to cross off the list.

"This looks strangely familiar for some reason..." Ruby mumbled beside me. I gave her an inquisitive glance that she shook off. She glared down the street at the dark pavement, as if the earth itself would tell her where we were. "I'm sure it's nothing. I just get the weirdest sense of deja vu that I've been here before."

"If you're sure." She nodded, still unsatisfied, and stared back at the road. There weren't any cars lining the street, so it seemed like the asphalt was there merely as a formality, or maybe a luxury for the richer folk. After all, one wouldn't really need a car when the city in which one lived only spanned a half-dozen kilometers at most.

"Excuse me," I asked a man passing by, his nose in a newspaper. From what I could see of him, he was built tall and stocky, much like the current Rider. He wore a jet black business suit with a red tie that peeked out of the folds of his jacket. Strapped across his back was a thick metal plate, so I immediately ruled him out as someone normal. From what I'd seen of the untrained citizens on Remnant, they dressed and acted very similar to their Earthly counterparts. The Huntsmen and Huntresses were the ones who had the strange outfits and personalities. "I know this is a strange question, but could you tell us which island we're on? We're trainee Huntsmen, you see, and our teacher dropped us off here for an assessment."

The man peeked over his newspaper, revealing eyes as deep and pale silver as a shining full moon. "It's no trouble, young man," he said in a smooth basso voice. "We're often selected as a survival training ground for Beacon's students. You're currently on the island of Patch, about two hundred kilometers west of Vale."

Before I could say anything in thanks, Ruby gasped and zoomed past me, spinning me around with the sheer force of the wind trailing after her. "Dad?" she asked.

Wait, what?

"Ruby? Is that you, gemstone?" the man replied, putting down his paper so he could size up Ruby's full form. He stood a good half-meter above her, which wasn't really saying much, but it still looked intimidating. Now that they were next to each other, though, I could see the family resemblance. Both of them had sharply pointed chins, small brows, and silver eyes, though Ruby's were a much deeper shade than her supposed father. They both stood in the exact same position, too: back ramrod straight, shoulder blades held slightly back, and knees knocking inwards just the tiniest bit. Overall, the family resemblance was startling if you knew what to look for.

"Hmm..." Archer mused, mulling the unfolding events with a hand raised to his chin. He was enjoying this far too much. "Yes, this goes along with your luck, Shirou. I should have expected this."

His jokes aside, things just got a lot more complicated.


	25. Territory Dispute

**Chapter 25: Territory Dispute**

Taiyang Xiaolong motioned us inside with a wave of his hand, never once bothering to check us for weapons or ascertain any hidden objectives. From Ruby's stories of him, he was a fantastic Huntsman, so I supposed if he wanted to he could have done so with a glance, but it was still strange. Who lets a bunch of strangers into their house just because they were seen walking down the street with his daughter?

Ruby immediately relaxed in the homely place, and if I were more of a fan of Western architecture, I probably would have too. The sitting room's furniture was made entirely out of mahogany, or so my Structural Analysis told me. It was decorated sparsely, with just a coffee table, recliner, a pair of sofas, and a cabinet holding up a television- the real kind, not the holographic ones that tinted everything blue. The walls were painted a sandy brown that bounced the light filtering through a pair of stained-glass windows in the back of the house, lighting up the sitting room in ways that conventional light would never be able to.

In a flash, there were steaming beverages in front of was no distinction between the manipulation of matter and sheer speed there, so I didn't bother trying to ask if it was his Semblance. Instead, I raised my mug to my lips and, after confirming and checking with Archer that there weren't any poisons in the drink, took a tentative sip. The bitter taste of kelp tea hit the back of my throat like a refreshing gulp of air. I quickly took a second and third sip before setting it down, as was customary.

Taiyang looked over all of us with searching eyes. His gaze caught Ruby's, whose eyes flicked to mine in confirmation. I gave her the smallest of twitches that meant no; it wouldn't be worth the risk to get her father involved in the Grail War. It would not only put the Church after us, but also his life at risk. Jaune's parents and Ozpin could certainly hold off a Servant, maybe even beat them, but the just-greying Taiyang wasn't at that level yet. You could see it in his posture, the creeping signs of early-onset aging and arthritis, probably caused by the gauntlet he was used to wielding. The kind of force it expelled was comparable to a strike from a Servant with B rank Strength, definitely enough to start tearing tendons in a person's hand after enough use.

"So, what brings you kids out to Patch?" he asked. "I don't think I've seen you older ones; are you some of the fifth years? I never knew that Ozpin had fallen to letting the older students chaperone the younger. Honestly, that man is so lazy sometimes..."

Despite his admonishment of Ozpin's behavior, I could see the calculative gleam in his eyes. He wasn't going to hesitate to take action if we gave him an answer that he didn't like, and it was painfully obvious that he didn't believe that Archer and Lancer were fifth year students. Besides, that wouldn't explain Tabitha's presence, and it certainly wouldn't explain Ozpin's...

"Hold on a minute," I said, stopping everyone in his or her tracks. "Where did Ozpin go?"

We all blinked, then stared incredulously at one another. Archer and Lancer seemed to be the most shocked at the man's abilities. Granted, they hadn't seen his power themselves, so it was somewhat understandable that they'd underestimate him, but it was incredible that he had slipped right out of our noses while we were distracted. It had to have been before Taiyang had met us, or he wouldn't have commented on the premier Huntsman's apparent laziness. While we were running to the main road, maybe? Had he really just stayed behind in the manse's guest room?

"Wait, the old goat is with you?"Taiyang asked incredulously.

Lancer nodded. It appeared that his legend didn't do his intelligence justice, judging by the excuse he gave Taiyang. "Yeah, he said he had a bit off business to conduct with some guy named Mr. Dawn," said the Irish warrior. "I thought he'd stick with us for a couple more hours, but it seems like he's finally gotten off his rocker and done something."

"I like you already, brat." Lancer nearly bristled at the backhanded compliment, but managed to rein in his anger, courtesy of Tabitha's warning hand on his arm. "So what now? Are there any special rules to your survival test?"

"Get as few outside influences involved as possible, be the last one standing, and win before the week is up," I listed, falsifying most of the Grail War's facts. "There are six other teams involved, and we have to defeat them to win. Would it be possible to stay here while the test is going on?"

"I thought you said there weren't to be any outside influences involved," Taiyang said, grinning. "I see what you mean, though. You can stay here as long as you don't wreck my house with your fighting. There are a bunch of guest rooms upstairs you can use; Ruby will show you to them."

Ruby nodded and motioned to lead us up the dark-wood stairs. The upper floor was styled just like the lower floor, with the sole exception of three portraits lining the walls. One was of Ruby and Yang, probably ten and eight, fighting over something or other. The second was of a woman with long, feathery black hair and red eyes. She was almost a carbon copy of Yang, with the sole exception of her high cheekbones. She stared straight at the camera with a beaming smile on her face, holding a suspiciously baby-shaped bundle in her arms. The third was another baby-carrying woman. This one was shorter, and her clear blue eyes and red-tinted black hair marked her as Ruby's mother. She was just as short as my teammate was, Ruby's signature cape wrapped around her shoulders. Her clothing was almost exactly like Ruby's as well. They were literally almost exactly alike. Did the Xiaolong siblings inherit nothing from their father?

I shook my head and focused on the rooms that Ruby opened up for us. They were simple and sparse, like the rooms below us. I immediately tossed down my few belongings next to Blake's and checked around the room for any bugs, magical or otherwise. For all I knew, Caster could have already been there and set up an island-wide chain of communication. Thankfully, I found nothing, but I did catch something at the very edge of my prana sense, a mere quarter of a kilometer away. The thundering power of a Servant pervaded my senses for an instant, completely independent of Archer's and Lancer's own scents. This one smelled like gold and incense and horses. Probably Rider, although if the incense was any indication, it could have been Caster.

"Now that we have a base of operations, let's get down to business," I said after we'd all settled down. Taiyang stayed downstairs doing who-knows-what while we planned. I pulled out one of the maps I'd nabbed from off of Taiyang's table and spread it out. After taking a moment to look over the map, Lancer and Archer immediately went into strategy mode.

While I expected my Servant double to know something about strategy, I completely forgot that Lancer had once been a famed strategist in Celtic Ireland as well, trained by the Warrior of Shadows herself. The demigod quickly laid out a few contingency plans in case something went wrong, and then got down to immediate business. "Alright, so if Caster wants to build a Territory, he'd going to have to find a place that can't be regularly visited by humans. It's probable that he's going to want to have a building and some form of technology to use; he reminds me far too much of the Greco-Roman alchemists for my liking, and they always had a knack for manipulating the elements with tools. That narrows their possible options down to here," he scraped a circle on a nearby building block, "here," another apartment block, this one near the outskirts of the city, "and here." He finished by scrawling over a clearly abandoned shopping mall. "If we're going for safety, then the mall is most assuredly the best assumption."

"I hate to ask, but what's a Territory?" Tabitha asked, raising her hand. My team nodded beside me, obviously just as confused. I looked to Archer.

"A Caster is able to use a class-exclusive ability called Territory Creation," he explained. "Within the Territories they create, they are allowed to change certain laws of the physical world regardless of outside influence. For example, a Territory barrier can be configured to decrease a Saber's stats by two ranks while keeping everyone else's up, or keeping Servants out but allowing Masters to enter. If the Caster isn't too malicious in their intentions, they can be used as good mediators and peace treators. Territory Creation, while it takes some creativity to use to its full effect and time to activate, is a devastating ability to have at one's disposal. It's the sole reason why Casters are usually targeted first in Wars, followed immediately by Assassins and Archers. We have a tenuous alliance with everyone but Caster and Saber out of principle right now, but that could change very quickly, so I suggest that Shirou, one of you and I go to talk alliances with the other Servants."

"But aren't the Servants the villains?" Ruby asked. I shook my head,

"Not always," I told her, causing her to furrow her brow in confusion. "Look at it this way. Each of the Servants have their own dream to fulfill, even Archer and Lancer. It's the reason that they were options for Servants in this War in the first place. To the other Servants, we're just obstacles that are getting in the way of their goal. Getting them on our side could be vital for realizing even one of their dreams."

"Oh, I get it!" She didn't quite get it, but I let it slide with a fond smile and a ruffle of her silky hair. I wasn't going to be the one explaining the greys of a world to a child that only saw in black and white.

Maybe Archer could do that, or Ren if I ever needed a favor.

Archer and I both sought out Ren's knowing gaze. He sighed and lifted himself off of the floor, already grinning begrudgedly. "I'll get ready," he said, turning around to pack his weapons in his sleeves. "You two start looking for the Assassin while I finish up here."

We nodded in tandem. "Lancer, you're in charge of finding and eliminating Caster. Take Ruby and Blake with you. Tabitha, I know you want to join the fight, but try to stay here with Taiyang for the time being. If he's going to get involved, and he will get involved at one point of another, then it better be for protecting you."

Tabitha pouted, but nodded. I smiled warmly at her; Martin would have said yes and then immediately tried to sneak out after us to face off in combat against a Servant. At least Tabitha showed more self-consciousness than her brother.

When Ren was ready, we all broke. Tabitha stayed behind, fading from my vision as I leapt after Archer out a window, Kanshou and Bakuya drawn. Since Archer and I were both experts on the weapons, he'd be able to do his class justice and attack from afar while I could use the Married Blades to corral any enemies into position. Kanshou and Bakuya were the perfect weapons to support someone of the Archer class, but that support would only work if there were two fighters or if the Archer had reflexes and speed so incredible that they could use both simultaneous.

Ren trailed behind us, managing to keep up a pace even with Archer and I cranking the speed up to D rank. I could see a liberal application of magenta Aura coating the small bits of exposed skin on his legs, and he was sweating like crazy not five minutes into our trek, but he stayed right at my tail regardless. His hands were always extended, ready to catch and shoot StormFlower at any moment.

Archer's senses were better than my own, but they were still only about average for Magus. It was tough finding Assassin in the midst of the overwhelming blanket of prana that the Grail War's preparation had released. Cutting through it was the smaller, yet no less noticeable prana signature of a Caster that suffused the air in particular spots. Often, these residual prana traces were accompanied by burning trees or chunks of stone that had been unceremoniously ripped out of the earth. Forest green gradually fell to a sick, convulsive purple as we headed deeper into the forest. White, bony plates covered several of the trees and flowers. Had the flora become Grimm-like as well as the fauna? Was this the work of a Caster, or the Apostle I'd spent the past few months investigating with Ozpin?

"Get ready," Archer warned as we came up on... something up ahead. "I can feel Assassin's presence, and that means that she's either a really shitty Assassin or she's looking for a fight. Ren, I'll look to you for cover fire while Shirou and I take on Assassin. Can you handle her Master?"

Ren contemplated the prospect for a minute. "Maybe," he finally decided. "He looked old enough to have graduated from a Hunting academy by now, and he seemed to be experienced with Dust from the little I could talk out of him. I'll try my best, but if I can't I'll let you know."

The three of us nodded in confirmation before bursting through a canopy of trees. A stream ran directly through the glade we'd slammed into, its clear water carrying prana scents from all over the forests. A small trickle ran off into the Grimm-infested parts of the forest. It gradually changed to an amethyst-like purple colour as it approached the tainted trees.

In the middle of the glade, sitting on a boulder that jutted out of the center of the stream, was Assassin. Her pale, petite body was covered in cuts shallow and deep. A drop of red bled into the stream, staining the water a grotesquely beautiful ruby. Her Master stood over he, frantically bandaging her wounds. Before I even thought about it, I'd brushed past Archer and stepped forward.

"Shirou, what are you doing?" he hissed, ripping my arm cleanly out of its socket as he whirled me around to face him. The pain wasn't all that noticeable, and as I snapped it back into place, I could feel the soothing threads of Avalon's prana fixing whatever damage I'd sustained. "She's an Assassin! Even when she's injured, she can take you on with her eyes closed, and I am not disappearing before I'm done with my work."

"She's a child," I snapped back, just as vehemently. If Archer was so worried about not having a host, he was really an idiot. Honestly, he had Independent Action at B rank, for fuck's sake! "Stay out of my way while I'm healing her."

Ren nodded at the order, and while Archer looked for all the world like he wanted to strangle me, I simply raised a hand and gestured to my Command Seals. He grudgingly stood back, allowing me to pass once again. I Traced Avalon as I walked. The sheath's glowing light caught the attention of the enemy Master, who tensed in preparation for a fight.

"What do you want?" he asked warily. I had to give him credit, his voice didn't even waver at the idea of facing three armed warriors, two of which were veterans of the last Grail War and one of which had lived through two. "If you're here to finish off Assassin, you'll have to get through me."

He palmed a Dust crystal that thrummed with electric power. I shook my head and stepped closer. He took this as a threat, lobbing the gem, but before it got within five meters of me it was pierced by a black-shafted arrow and released an eruption of raw lightning.

"Calm down," I told him, although that also applied to Archer. He had too much of a hair-trigger temper around me to be healthy. I hefted Avalon, showing him the inscriptions before dropping it back down to my side. "I've got a thing or two that should be able to heal her."

"And why would you want to do that?"

I frowned. "She a kid, man. Even if she's a Servant, she's still nine years old. I'm not letting any kid die on my watch."

With that, I pushed myself past the man who offered no resistance. He had done a decent job of bandaging her wounds, but there were too many to be covered by what little bandaging he appeared to have. I tapped her chest with Avalon, right between her collarbones, and whispered the Everdistant Utopia's activation keyword: "Utopia".

Prana flushed from my system when Avalon activated. Its gilded light gathered around Assassin's tiny frame, coating her wounds and wrapping her in warmth. Assassin's eyes snapped open in an instant, and while she frowned, she didn't stop the foreign prana from doing its work. Her tiny fists clenched over her blood-spattered knives.

Avalon's golden light rippled and faded after a moment, like the sun passing behind a dark thunderhead. Assassin bounced to her feet and set herself in a combat stance. While Ren twitched in the corner of my vision and Archer audibly nocked an arrow behind me, I stayed stock-still. The sound of shattering glass and the smell of a fresh spring breeze signalled Avalon's de-Tracing. The rocks held the glowing light for just a moment before they too became dark, and then all was still.

"What do you want with Master?" Assassin asked in a sharp voice that belied her childish appearance. The word Master was distorted, like she was trying to say something else at the same time. The word was indistinguishable, a harsh noise in her throat. She didn't sound the least bit perturbed that her injuries were suddenly a few days old, like they'd been there beforehand. The only sign that she'd even been injured was the pair of dark stains encircling her shoulder where blood once flowed.

"Stand down, Assassin," her Master said after a moment. The girl immediately relaxed, but her emerald eyes never left mine. "If he wanted us dead we'd have been dead a long time ago. We should at least give them the courtesy of hearing out whatever proposal they have."

I nodded in thanks. "My name's Shirou Emiya, Master of Archer. I've been searching for you guys for a while now; what happened to get her this messed up?"

The man scowled. "Caster happened," he spat. "That sonuvabitch and his psycho twins jumped us when we were looking for a place to camp out for the night. He's a scary person, but at least he didn't get away unscathed. Assassin got him pretty good on one of his hands."

Assassin twirled her knife proudly, beaming at her Master. "And what do you mean, you were searching for us?" he asked.

"The first thing anyone worth their salt does in a Grail War is get into an alliance," I explained, sitting down myself. Ren followed my example immediately, eliciting a small smile that I didn't entirely have control of, but Archer stayed where he was. The arrow he had gripped in his fingers glinted with dark light. "I already have Lancer on my side, and since Saber has a grudge with me, he's out. I thought I'd get to the second-strongest Servant in the War before anyone else and offer their Master a deal.""

"What's in it for us?" the man asked.

"Safety from Rider and Berserker, for one," I offered. "At least, if they don't want to side with us. You'll also have increased manpower to take out Caster, while I'll get an extra Servant and Master on my side to deal with Saber. What do you say?"

I never said I was Rin when it came to talking to people, after all. That was more Archer's territory. I didn't force or trick people into agreeing with me, I put the offer out there and gave them the time to accept or decline. Rin's way was more effective, true, but my efforts put more emphasis on the actual alliance, and I didn't use blackmail to continue it after our goals were both accomplished.

The man seemed to contemplate my offer for a few minutes, then snapped his gaze back up to me. "I'll think about it," he said. Assassin nodded beside him, and a stray splash of blood flew from her hair to the ground. Ren blanched behind me.

Without taking their eyes off me, Assassin and her Master darted away, hiding within the treeline until the only way I knew that they were still in the forest was Assassin's overwhelming prana leakage. She packed some serious punch behind that diminutive body. Archer finally let up on his arrow, but the bow didn't dissolve. Rather, it glowed with crackling prana, Reinforced to its very limit by Archer's and my combined prana.

The snap of twigs came with the blast of fire, and I suddenly realized why Archer hadn't de-Traced his bow. I threw myself to the side, coming back up with a shimmering rapier in my hand and a single goal on my mind- protect Ren. He wasn't as strong, fast or skilled as either of us, and even though he had some impressive agility for a Huntsman-in-training, he was still nothing compared to even a Caster class.

I flipped away from a second gout of hot flames and came back around to look my opponent in the eyes. He was the Caster, and the finger pointed at my head told me that if I didn't move right now I would become rotisserie human.

So, instead of diving to the side like any sane person, I brought Myrtenaster to bear and thundered towards him, my feet kicking up dust, grass and loose pebbles. Caster was surprised for a split-second, barely enough to anything.

It was still enough to do something.

I shattered his defenses with an lunging strike for long enough that Archer could loose a quarrel of bolts at him. They were effortlessly batted away by a crimson, faceted shield that gleamed in the light. He had me trapped within its breadth within seconds, but I wasn't quite out for the count. He raised his other hand, a gold ring gleaming on his stretched pointer finger, but pulled it back before Myrtenaster speared it off. He simply snapped his fingers, which appeared to be enough.

Rock flowed up from the ground like water, racing towards me and encasing my feet. I tossed Myrtenaster in the air, Traced Gram, and stabbed it into the liquid rock. Gram's ability was to burn away elemental Thaumaturgy, although it took different amounts of prana from its wielder to do so. I could feel my energy sapping out of me as the unholy sword struggled to combat the aggressively sloshing stone. It dipped into my prana pools again and again to fight against the Caster's spell while I took a fleeting two seconds to analyze the attack.

Casters were all Magi, no matter who was summoned. They also had to abide by conventional Thaumaturgy, no matter what they did. So how had he used something akin to a three-line spell without even opening his mouth? Did he have artifacts, or was he like the Einzberns, just channeling ridiculous amounts of power with a single intent in mind? Both were viable. He had a ton of gold and silver jewelry on his fingers, wrists and neck, and his prana levels were surging high enough that I could feel it even through the clearing's recently-Avalon-saturated presence.

"Caladbolg!" Archer's roared, and I felt The Light's Forbear shooting towards the barrier that kept us separated. I smirked. Pushing Gram into the ground to keep the stone at bay, I pushed up to land in a handstand, one hand on either side of my blade's crossguard, and shoved myself high into the air. Caladbolg shattered the grounding of the barrier without even slowing down and very nearly nailed Caster in the face. Even as my feet touched the top of the slowly-disintegrating barrier, I watched Caster smoothly twirl out of the way, the only damage to him being a ripped sleeve from Caladbolg's vortex-like slipstream. He looked up at me, no longer smiling. I caught Myrtenaster when it rose to meet me, and put as much strength into my legs as possible.

With the combination of Reinforcement, gravity and my own natural Strength, I reached perhaps a tenth of the speed of sound. The forty meters that encompassed the distance between Caster and I was gone in just over a second, leaving him with barely any time to defend. Just as my hyper-enhanced reflexes and sight told me to extend Shisui, I heard a barely-audible voice cant, "Petras tis Fotias."

The blast of flames that erupted from Caster's form was incredible, and it was only my speed, as well as Gram still being tied to my prana, that saved my life. Even with those two going for me, I easily retained second-degree burns on the unclothed bits of my skin. Gilgamesh's Altered armor glowed with a faint red color when I exited the inferno. I hadn't been able to strike Caster, but I'd managed to catch him off guard enough for Archer to slam a second volley of arrows into his position.

"Damn," Archer cursed. I could feel it too; Caster had literally vanished. None of us could see it in the blaze of fire that slowly encroached on the forest, but he threw power around like a fountain and then... nothing. Had he teleported? Had he brought his speed up to the point that he could leave without being noticed? Had he simply suppressed his prana to the point where Archer and I, arguably the worst at sensing energy in the War, just couldn't feel him anymore?

"Where'd he go?" Archer and I asked at the same time, looking towards each other for confirmation. I felt a scowl on my face as his own grew in size.

"If you two would stop arguing for a minute..." Ren said, his deadpan voice bringing me back to reality. Like I told him to, he'd stayed out of the fight, but that didn't mean he'd come out unscathed. Caster's fire attack must have been designed to get the both of us, because his sleeve was charred black, and his right hand hung limply by his side. Black ash fell off it in chunks, exposing smooth bone underneath. It was probably only the cauterizing effect that fire usually had on flesh that was keeping him from bleeding, and thankfully it seemed the attack had severed the nerves in his hands, since he wasn't writhing on the ground in pain. Avalon was in my hand in an instant, and after another liberal coating of healing prana, stitching the Traced sheath onto his clothing in just the right way, and several more of Archer's complaints he was on a steady mend. I told him to shut down most of his Aura just in case it would interfere with Avalon's prana.

The trees flickered by as flashes of green and brown, becoming little more than a blur as I pushed my Reinforcement to go even faster. There was always the possibility that Lancer could be in danger, and it wasn't even a stretch to assume that Caster had managed to set up his Territory by then. That was the thing about Territories: unlike a Workshop, which would usually take years at the least to become fortified to the point where it could withstand an Enforcer's assault, Territories were Single Action spells capable of being written over a plot of land in a scant few minutes. If he had already managed one, then our chance of getting him out of the game for good would drop by a good thirty percent. Once Casters set up their Territories, they seldom left them.

I managed to pinpoint Lancer's prana signal at the same time as Archer, and we both shot forwards, leaving just enough room for Ren to catch up with Avalon hampering his speed. Trees gave way to the asphalt jungle. I nearly tripped over an exposed piece of concrete.

Gae Bolg was trained on us the moment we entered Lancer's sensory range. His prana was a bit higher than it usually was, but nothing looked amiss and both he and Tabitha were safe. Lancer's red eyes trained on me, and Tabitha shot up with worry on her face.

"What'd ya find out?" he asked. "Got any new allies for the War?"

I shook my head. The sun was high in the sky at that point, morning and noon long since past. If anything, it was just the beginning of evening, the faintest of orange rays glimmering and cresting over the tops of the waves in the distance and reflecting off the glass windows around us. In that kind of light, it would be hard to recognize the sunny-robed Caster by anything other than his prana signal. "No, but we have a possibility in Assassin and one definite enemy. Caster has formed his own side."

Lancer's eyes widened, and with a muttered, "Shit," he went back to his thinking pose. "So Saber and Caster have their own sides and Berserker and Rider are complete unknowns. Assassin is a maybe, and as for the Church..." Lancer frowned. "This War isn't going well for us. It's only day one and we already have two definite enemies. Do you have any idea what's next?"

"Shirou, is that you?" Blake poked her head out from the front door before I could answer Lancer's questions. "What happened?"

I was ready to start explaining what had happened, but then something in the air changed. Humans naturally have some innate sense of danger, much like when a person feels a sense of foreboding when a loved one dies or a fire breaks out at their home. I moved to intercept the attack (because it could only be an attack), and in a split-second, Archer and Lancer had hauled Ren and Tabitha out of my way. I visualized, prepared, and Traced.

"Rho Aias!"


	26. Harbinger

**Chapter 26: Harbinger**

Caster appeared for a split-second in between two enormous gouts of scorching flame that roared towards Blake and I. Just in the nick of time, the four-petaled shield, the representation of the unfailing shield used by Ajax of the Greeks, blossomed to life and caught the searing fires in its jeweled magenta grip. Ajax's shield was literally undefeatable- there were only a dozen or so Noble Phantasms that could break through it with sheer force- but its limits all depended on the durability of its user. The shield used its wielder's life force as fuel to continue blocking the blow, and even though I had Avalon healing my body constantly, there was only so much it could take before the degeneration caused by Rho Aias surpassed the Everdistant Utopia's healing powers.

When the first petal vanished, its defense finally halted by the fading power of the Single Action's first fireball, my skin evaporated in a mist of hazy blood. The second dissipated as well, along with the marrow of my bones. The third was the one that finally defeated both fireballs, although it also took several of my vital organs with it. Caster blinked in surprise as his flames vanished, right before an arrow narrowly missed his head and a red flash signalled Lancer's assault.

I dropped. Patches of my skin, angry and red with pooling blood, were already beginning to regenerate with the massive amount of prana I was cycling through Avalon. Blake took one look at me and paled to the point where her skin was more gray than cream. She tried to grab me as I fell, but the simple touch of smooth skin on uncovered nerve sent spikes of chilling pain through my entire body. I could feel my weight increasing as my body fixed itself, too slowly to be of any real use in battle.

It didn't matter anyway. The next thing I heard was an explosion, and at first I thought it was another of Caster's fireballs. The blue light twinkling from the point of impact, however, dissuaded me. Archer was on the other side of the field, looking equally stunned, and Lancer watched the slightly-singed Caster with a wary eye. If neither of them had done it, then who had? Was it Ozpin, finally here to steal the show? That wasn't possible, though; every one of Ozpin's attacks had a green theme to them, whether it was Dust or Aura empowering them to far-beyond-superhuman levels.

The realization hit just like Lancer's spear thrust into the thin layer of skin covering Caster's hand. It hadn't been an attack that I launched, but Archer. The Caladbolg he had fired earlier must have been powerful enough to shatter two layers of that crystal barrier, travel more than a kilometer and a half to our current position, and detonate right as Caster appeared there. What kind of infinite Luck did Archer have?

"Blake, help me up," I panted. My skin had almost fully regenerated, though only by two of the six layers the epidermis usually sported. My bones, however, were too fragile at that moment to hold me up without assistance.

"Shirou, you can't get involved in your condition!" Blake argued. "You'll get yourself killed!"

"I don't plan to fight," I told her. That instantly quieted her next tirade. "Blake, please. Even without my bow, I'm a fair support fighter."

Blake looked conflicted for just a fraction of a second, but in that time Caster had already dodged more than a dozen point-blank stabs from Lancer and just as many of Archer's one last look at the battle, and then to me, she nodded. Her eyes caught a gleam of sunlight as she pulled me to my feet, keeping me up with just a single hand. "Shirou."

"Hmm." There was nothing more to be said. I could hear the underlying worry in Blake's one word, even as full of confidence and conviction as it was. She believed that I could help, trusted to me to that extent, and I couldn't let her down like that.

I searched through Unlimited Blade Works, trying to find any defenses or attacks that didn't require the use of my hands. While I could theoretically attempt a Trace Bullet: Continuous Fire, the physical cues involved were needed to focus my aim, and I wasn't about to accidentally skewer my Servant and Lancer just because I couldn't use my arms.

"Kanshou, Bakuya," I decided. The two came crashing through a broken window, each one pulsing with energy. Archer may have been their wielder in some other life, but right then I held them in my hands as someone who was worthy enough to hold them, even if I didn't quite believe it myself. They settled behind my shoulders, vibrating eagerly in my prana's grip. I took one look at the elegantly weaving Caster and fired.

Unlike Caster, who probably had no idea that the Married Blades even existed, Lancer and Archer both had a lot of experience with them. Archer and I had both fought Lancer with them, allowing the blue-haired Servant to gauge their almost-unpredictable patterns with record clarity, and Archer was pretty self-explanatory.

They both leapt out of the way as the spinning swords converged on each other before deflecting and continuing to weave more intricate and unpredictable arcs. We only had ten seconds to finish this fight, tops, and that was only if Caster kept using the one branch of Thaumaturgy that I knew he had control over. Archer knew what I was going to do, though, so maybe we had a slight advantage.

"Magen David," I enunciated, calling for the symbol from my Reality Marble. A six-pointed Star of David flickered to life in front of Caster. The Magen David, or if you wanted the translation literally, the Shield of David, was special in that it was blessed to defend against anything that didn't originate from someone of Jewish faith. It was once wielded by King David himself, along with sling he used to slay Goliath and the sword he used to smite his other enemies and promote peace throughout his kingdom.

The next flicker of light exploded abruptly in Caster's face, and before I had the chance to snap at Archer and Lancer to go for a kill, his presence disappeared once again. My full weight reasserted itself at last. Blake continued to hold me up, even as Archer approached and Lancer escorted Tabitha inside the house. Thankfully, Archer had enough magical experience to repair the windows and scorch marks that damaged Taiyang's house. Thank the gods the man had gone to get groceries.

"Shirou, you alright?" Archer asked. He didn't bother waiting for an answer before he swept back around and summoned his bow. "No matter. Avalon will heal you even if you're still somehow hurt."

Wow, that was cold. No wonder I didn't like myself all that much.

"Ignore him, Shirou," Blake whispered. "You'll be fine soon, right?"

I winced as my organs shifted a bit. "Yes," I answered slowly. "In a minute or two. Just help me out a little longer and we should be good." I raised my voice a little so Ruby and Ren could hear me from inside the house. "Ruby, when is your dad getting home? We don't want him to see this mess."

As I spoke, I gestured to the charred and crumbling pile of ashes that was once a beautifully green lawn. Taiyang's house was nice, and it would cost hundreds of lien just to replace all of that grass, never mind how long it would take to regrow to its former glory. Avalon didn't work on plant matter either, as I once found out when trying to heal a sickly-looking rose that Ilya had given me.

"Excuse me?" Archer grumbled, waving a hand. "We have more important things to take account of than a lawn. Namely, why the hell you're pulling on my weapons when I never gave you the permission to do so."

"The last time I checked, you are me," I countered, baring Archer's transplanted arm for all to see. "That's the reason this transfusion was so compatible after all. Don't forget that when I lost my arm, you were the one that forced this on me. I didn't even want to keep it; it would have been easier on my soul without the forced synchronization you freaking shoved into my shoulder socket."

"Lost your arm?" Blake inquired, a deadly tone in her voice. She glared at me like I'd done something wrong. "And why haven't you told us about losing an arm? I'd like to know."

"Well, it got replaced in the end, so I thought it wasn't really a big deal, you know? Besides, that was back in the Fifth War, and there's a lot of things that happened then that you guys don't know about."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Blake's glare only increased in intensity. Archer smirked and bit out a chuckle while Lancer looked Tabitha over. She looked supremely ruffled by the thought that the War could extend into the relative safety of Taiyang's house, but she was otherwise unharmed. I could feel the small leak of prana that exuded from her form, like she'd been fighting Caster's mere presence with prana. It was an interesting phenomenon, and should there ever be a device that safely measured prana output, I would have to scan her in a number of different situations.

Back to the task at hand. "Like I said, If I'm going to be of some use in this War, I'm going to have to break out some of our big shots. I've already finished Tracing Myrtenaster, as that and Caliburn will be my main weapons for now." Myrtenaster hummed brightly at the thought of being used on the gold-wire loop at my belt. I could feel the snap of prana from her Circuits empowering me, preparing for any battles ahead. "Lancer, tell me you still have use of the Twenty Runes."

Lancer's nod filled me with such relief that for a second I could only stagger in place, Blake already beside me to help steady me. Bless that girl. "Can you configure them to form an anti-teleportation barrier around the house? Caster has some kind of long-distance travel ability, and preventing him from using it near here is nothing but a good idea."

Lancer smirked. "C'mon, what do you take me for, kid? Although..." he frowned thoughtfully and tapped the cursed point of Gae Bolg against his temple.

"To make a setup like that, it would take some real creative genius. This could be my next Magnum Opus! Nobody ever said I was a bad Magus, after all. You know what, you've got a deal, kid. I'll get that barrier up and running within the day. I'll even throw in a quick glamour to hide the scrapyard Taiyang calls a front lawn."

"Thanks, Lancer."

Lancer smiled at the sky, probably sending a small prayer to his father, Lugh. "No problem, kid. You gather up the others and get them ready for a trip downtown while i start setting this up. You're gonna have a long few days ahead of you if you don't even have spare clothes."

I nodded to him and turned to leave, but he slung a hand onto my shoulder before I could walk away. "Oh, and kid? If the girls ever try and get you to carry things, disappear. Run as fast as you can with your Reinforcement, no matter how much prana it shoots up. Carrying a girl's clothing while she shops is a fate worse than death."

With that, he twirled Gae Bolg around to point in the dirt and set to work sketching a few Runes. Surely it couldn't be that bad?

* * *

Lancer was right: it was that bad.

Ruby led us downtown after we'd finished fixing up all the minor damages to Taiyang's house. There was a small shopping center there, the only one on the whole island. Our first stop was the clothing department.

The moment a pair of bags, courtesy of Ruby's flinging hands, hit my hands... well, I bolted. Just like Lancer had advised I do, I ran as fast as I could and made it to the other side of the clothing depot in less than three seconds. The men's section wasn't as large as the woman's, but there was no less style in the outfits, and with the help of a perky, attractive blonde employee I got to work choosing my clothes.

There were several pairs of suits in my pile of garments that the assistant had insisted I buy, saying that the combination of black, red and white "brought out my eyes" and other such things. It was a small bonus compared to the fact that for formal dress, they fit quite comfortably, and I could move around in them with a degree of freedom that rivaled the armor that Archer constantly wore. I found a few hats to go with them that concealed my auburn hair fairly well, so those went onto the pile as well. After that was a considerably larger stack of jeans, full-sleeved shirts, and sleeveless tees. Once again, the blonde had practically demanded that I buy a decent number of those as well, although for what purpose I wasn't really sure. They did give me a good range of movement, and they were having a sale, so why not?

Finally, an hour had gone by, and the others came looking for me. I was having a nice chat with the blonde clerk from before when Blake sidled up behind me, a small smile on her face. "Looks like you already got your shopping done," she said in a mildly amused tone. I turned and, already half-expecting it, returned the peck she gave me. Ruby looked absolutely scandalized, Ren was watching things with a small, knowing smile on his face, and the clerk wilted in her seat. So that was why she insisted I get all of those sleeveless shirts.

"When did this happen?" Ruby asked Blake, grabbing hold of her wrists.

"I'm not sure I follow."

"When did you and Shirou... when did you..." Ruby started to tremble. "I mean, you were so quiet the whole time, and I was in the bed right next to you... how did you..."

"How did we do what?" I asked, raising a hand. Ruby blushed furiously.

"how long have you been having sex?!" she shouted, drawing a few surprised and bashful glances from our fellow shoppers. Instantly, Blake and I went red all the way to the ears. Where did she get that impression? Sure, Blake and I were sort of unofficially dating, but not... doing it.

"Ruby, why do you think we've been having sex?" Blake asked calmly, her voice a direct contrast to her face. She was visibly fighting to keep her flaming flush under control.

"Well, you've been kissing, and... Yang always told me that when two people do... that, they starting acting more lovey-dovey afterwards," Ruby explained quickly, at this point turned entirely away from us. Despite that, I could literally feel the heat radiating off her face.

"Yang..." I muttered, using it as a full-blown curse. "I should have known. I'll have a talk with your sister when we get back to Beacon, Ruby. As for Blake and I, I think you have the stages of relationships in the wrong order... although, knowing Yang, what she told you could actually be a viable option. Just... just give us a minute and we'll teach you how it really works."

Ruby nodded weakly, sinking into the nearest chair with what looked like palpable relief. "Oh."

"Although," Ren began, grinning slyly. I already knew what he was going to say; his voice was smooth and cool, but that only made me feel more embarrassed. "I have heard a few squeaks coming from the bed next to mine. The same bed, I might remind you, that Shirou occupied. Is there something you'd like to tell us?"

"You're a horrible person, Ren," I deadpanned as Ruby instantly went back to flaming-blush-mode. Blake let out a small snort through her slightly red face, and Ren smirked in a way that said "my job is done here".

After calming Ruby down once again and turning down a date from the cute blonde I'd been talking to, I hauled my clothes all the way back to the Rose household. The man was waiting for us when we got back, a small smile on his face. He didn't even notice the pile of ashes surrounding his house; evidently Lancer had done a good job in weaving illusions and Runes. We packed our new clothing away for the day and, with Archer taking up the first watch, allowed the sun to set on the first day of the Holy Grail War.

There were several Servants that were still unaccounted for, and Saber wouldn't have the slightest chance at being hidden for too long. Rider and Berserker were still unknowns, but there was always a small chance that the missing Ozpin could be negotiating a deal between us and Coco. The girl was brash, headstrong and too confident for her own good, despite being a part of CFVY with Velvet. They were a damn strong team when they got all of their teamwork right, and during the spars the first years were allowed to look over, they absolutely decimated all but a few select teams. Coco, in particular, was strong with her weapon, but she relied on her teammate, Fox, too much when it was warming up. If a Servant with the speed of your average Lancer came up, it would be disastrous for her if Berserker couldn't reach her in time. Rider, on the other hand, was a stalwart man from the little I'd seen of him, and his Master was an absolute airhead. And she'd said she was a teacher? How low were Hunting academies falling these days?

Anyway, they would be hard to track. While Rider would be easy to spot in plain daylight, he didn't exude much mana, and he seemed to be the wise kind of man who waited for the Servants to come to him, rather than the other way around. I had no idea where Caster was by now. Assassin and her Master were essentially taking my place during the War, the clumsy idiots who didn't know a thing about the Holy Grail. It was imperative that I got Assassin, at least, on my side, and to do that I needed to get into her Master's good graces. Berserker was hidden as long as Coco stayed hidden, which probably wouldn't be long.

That left us with three options. Archer, Lancer, Ozpin and I could hunt the other Servants, which would take time but be the best option in the long run. We could always wait for Servants to come to us as well, although that was more of a Caster's territory than an Archer's. Our third option was to simply ignore any and all threats until there were only three Servants left, and then go on an all-out offensive. Out of the three, it seemed like the second one was the option we were going down. Despite the efficiency of the first and the single-target focus of the third, neither of them had safety plans that involved protecting my team and Tabitha. While they were by no means weak, it had already been established by Blake's failure at even tracking Caster's movements that they didn't have a chance at competing with them.

"What do we do now?" Blake asked. I blinked and refocused on the world around me. It was already nearing sunset, much to my shock, and we were still walking down the street. Either I'd just been standing there for a while, or we were walking in circles.

"The first thing I need to do is check the stats of our resident magician," I decided, pulling my original Codex out of a pocket. The leather-bound journal, enchanted with the power of the Holy Grail, flipped open to Caster's page automatically. His profile revealed his face and the rings on his hand, which I assumed were his Noble Phantasms. There were five, one that probably corresponded to each of the Western elements of prana: Fire, Water, Earth, Air, and Aether. He, on the other hand, was a ridiculous Caster, almost as strong as Medea had been. His Mana stat was all the way in the A+ range, while his other two revealed stats, Agility and Endurance, hovered around C. Then, without warning, they fluctuated for a split-second to around A before dropping back down to normal.

"What in the hell..." Archer muttered, having Traced his own copy from mine. i flipped to Caster's skillset and Noble Phantasm listing. The first Skill caught my eye immediately: Prana Burst. It was apparently a Servant-specific skill, unlike the Class-specific Prana Burst that Saber enjoyed using. No, his Class-specific skills were more terrifying; in addition to the standard Territory Creation, there were also another two that I wasn't so familiar with.

"Philosophy?" I asked myself. The explanation was simple: While conducting experiments related to the nature of prana, the mana stat would instantly raise to A+++ and any spell costs- a ten line Aria, for example- would be halved in length and cost. Thankfully it couldn't be used very well in battle, but that was still freakishly powerful.

"Shirou, are you seeing this?" Archer asked pointing to the final Skill listed on the page. I flicked through the lines of text and winced Caster's final Skill was Alchemy, the ability to make perfect Homunculi by throwing around enough prana. There was only one family in the world that made Homunculi like that, and the Einzbern were the furthest thing from my mind this Grail War. If I had to fight people like Sella and Leysritt, or gods forbid, Ilya...

"Y-yeah," I said, my voice cracking from the dryness that suddenly pervaded my throat. It was getting hard to breathe, and I had to shut down my prana reserves completely for a few seconds to get back to a semblance of calmness. Blake took my hand and rubbed her smooth thumb along the hard calluses that ran along my fingers. "So... What are the chances we'll have to deal with another monster like Ilya?"

Archer winced. "Too likely, I'm afraid," he responded. He cast his slate eyes to the ground and searched, but for what, I didn't know. "What do we do now?"

"Now we get back to Taiyang's house and eat dinner. We can think about this tomorrow."

* * *

Dinner was a lively affair at the Xiaolong residence. Ruby and Taiyang's boisterous conversation infected the rest of us, and soon even the stoic Archer was talking and laughing with the rest of us. Dinner was composed of standard Western fare, and while Taiyang was a decent cook, Ruby and the rest of my team made it clear that Archer and I would be doing all of the cooking from then on. During that short hour of relaxation, we talked about all kinds of things: Ruby's grades, our fighting styles, even Taiyang's job as a Huntsman. I learned a handful of useless facts about the business of Hunting, and while they might have been useful in other situations, most of them involved holding your weapon in a specific way or slashing and cutting at two different intervals. I had already learned that from several of Shisui's past wielders, and the knowledge, while devastatingly useful to anyone else, just slid over my precursory ideas.

After dinner, I sat myself down in one of the guest rooms with Blake, Ren and Ruby. Archer already knew everything that I was going to say, and Lancer was wise enough to stay out off it for the time being. Tabitha was, frankly, too young to be hearing about the second-bloodiest Grail War in history, so I sent her out as well. Chances were that Archer was already telling her about Ilya and how I lost my arm.

Blake began to speak the moment the last rays of the sun dipped beneath the ocean. "Shirou, what was that about Ilya earlier?" she began gently. Her voice took on a harder tone as she gripped my arm tightly. The display was enough to make Ren wince at the force, and blood collected in a series of pinkish splotches on my tanned skin, but I shrugged off the lingering pain. "And what was that about losing your arm? Tell us everything, please."

"Alright, but you won't want to hear it," I warned. Blake stubbornly shook her head and furrowed her hands further into the practically new bedsheets. "It's your choice."

I took a deep breath and began looking back to the day when Ilya and I first met. I quickly relocated to when I'd lost my arm. "I guess I should tell you about my arm first. Ren, you've seen it, right?" I asked, referring to the point where my shoulder and arm met.

"Yes," he replied simply. "It's a darker tone than the rest of your body."

"That plays a major role in it. During the last Grail War, I wasn't doing nearly as well as I am now, far worse in fact. I only had one ally, and that was my friend Rin. My Saber at the time, a fantastic swordsman that very well could have been the most talented Servant in the War, managed to get herself into some trouble and I was stuck with defending her while Rin dealt with the opposing Servant's Master, Ilyasviel von Einzbern. Ilya's Servant managed to find us; he was the Berserker in the last War. I managed to fight him off for long enough that we could get out of there and back to civilisation, but in the process, I lost my arm."

Yes, that was the day. I remember Berserker's sword-axe cleaving off everything from my shoulder down with perfect clarity; despite the obvious blood and lack of appendage, I had been so focused on keeping the injured Saber out of the battle and somewhat safe that I didn't even register the pain until we were back at the Emiya estate with...

"Archer suffered some damages during the fight against Ilya as well," I recalled. "She was monstrously powerful, the kind of Magus that only came around once in a century at best. One of his arms was hanging onto his body by a thread when we got back, and he was dying anyway, so he and Rin made the decision to graft the arm onto me. You all remember when I said Archer was me, from an alternate future, right?"

They all nodded, and I smiled at the knowledge that they had, at least, bothered to remember that bit of information. "Well, it stands to reason that two people who are the same would have the most success with grafting limbs to each other. He transplanted his arm to me, and that was how I became so knowledgeable about all of the swords I have in my mental collection. When he gave me his arm, he also gave me the memories of all of those swords."

"Wait, but how is his skin and hair so different from yours?" Ruby asked. "He has white hair and tan skin, while yours is a light gold at best and you have orange-ish hair. Is he an older version of you?"

"Of course not, although he is a bit taller." I showed her the fringe under my hair. There, progressing a bit further along the roots of my hair, were the signature patches of white above each temple that denoted the use of Projection. "One of the many reasons Projection isn't used that much anymore is because if you use it enough, it changes the color of your skin, eyes and hair. My hair is eventually going to bleach to Archer's white, and I might be able to do something about the skin, but I'm not quite sure. Thaumaturgy hasn't done much in the way of commercial makeup."

"And Ilya?" Ren asked, putting his two cents into the conversation. I paused mid-explanation, my older sister's visage flashing briefly behind my closed eyelids. Blake's fingers tightened around my bicep, a sign that she'd heard my breath hitch.

"She was my older sister," I forced out.

"We don't have to talk about it..." Ruby began. I shook my head.

"You'll end up hearing about her anyway, so I might as well explain now. She was born about a year before I was, back in another country to the West. My father- Kiritsugu, that is- married a woman named Irisviel before the Fourth War, and Ilya was the result. He left to participate in the Fourth War and ended up being estranged from the Einzbern family, of which Ilya and Irisviel were a part. In the end, he adopted me and raised me as his own child. I don't think he forgot about them, though." I looked back to the brief times I'd catch Kiritsugu sitting on the deck of the Emiya estate, simply looking towards the sunset. "Before he died, he would often spend hours just looking west and thinking."

"So Ilya participated in the Fifth Grail War, then?"

I nodded. "Yes, although she did so under the direction of her grandfather, Jubstacheit. When I first met her, she tried to kill me with Berserker, or as you know him now, Saber. Things got a little more complicated from there. It turned out that she was there to kill me because she thought I'd taken her father away from her. We ended up reconciling in the end, but... She was a homunculus, after all."

"A homunculus?" Ruby asked. Surprisingly, just as I opened my mouth to answer, Ren explained.

"A homunculus is an old myth from the East, beginning with the popularization of implanting Dust into the body to use as a power source and emergency Aura extender. Homunculi were supposed to be artificially created humans, people who were given life by the use of special brands of Dust being combined with human genetic material, such as a strand of hair or flake of skin. Of course, the ideas have never been proven, but it's been a big part of Atlas' Research and Development departments for several years now."

"Ren is... surprisingly close," I admitted. "While we didn't use Dust, the process is startlingly similar. Irisviel was a homunculus as well, so she was naturally sterilized at birth to prevent any genetic material from being damaged, but when the time came Jubstacheit (the bastard) took a few eggs from her and fertilized them with prana. The result was an exact genetic copy to pass on all of Irisviel's memories to. Homunculi are notorious for not lasting very long, and the Einzbern were masters at creating them. She was given a ridiculous amount of prana to draw from, but that was where the problem started. The Holy Grail needs a vessel to hold onto the energy from seven Servants until the time comes to summon it, and that vessel was agreed upon prior to the First War to be a homunculus from the Einzbern family..."

"That's awful!" Ruby exclaimed. "Why would they do that to a poor little girl?"

"Ruby, not every Magus is as nice as I am," I explained, grimacing. "Most of them won't bat an eye about burning down a poverted orphanage if it meant getting a bit further in their research and, subsequently, closer to the Root of the Swirl. A single homunculus, which aren't regarded as normal humans anyway, would hardly be a consequence to a person like Jubstacheit. Honestly, if I ever met that man..."

"He sounds like an asshole," Ren agreed.

"Wait, so who's the vessel for the Grail this time around?" Blake asked. I could almost see Archer's ears perk up at the question, and Lancer tilted his head so that he could watch me with one red eye.

"It has to be someone on Earth, because one of the conditions for the Grail to be activated is that an Einzbern homunculus has to be present. If I were to guess, I would say that it is one of their research homunculi sent to investigate the damage from the Fifth War. What I'm more worried about is the Grail's recharge time."

"What do you mean by recharge time?"

I frowned. "Well, the energy to make a wish has to come from somewhere, right? Not even the power of seven Servants is enough to grant a wish that defies all of the laws of the world. The Grail is supposedly kept in an energy-rich dimension for sixty years after each War ends to recharge its energies. Now, I have no clue how the absorption of energy works, but a jump from sixty years, to ten years, and finally to six months is a pretty radical jump. There must be an outside source that's fuelling it."

"The question is," Ozpin voiced from behind me, "what would that energy be? Perhaps... Dust?"


	27. Four Steeds

**Well, it's been a long, long time. Three months, if I'm doing the math right. I don't have much of an excuse for these past couple of months other than my own laziness. I'm determined to post everything though, and I'm not going to stop until this story is complete!**

**On another note, I'm publishing a novel! Yeah, it's a shocker, but I've gone ahead and begun the process of publishing the novel I wrote at NaNoWriMo next year. It's something I've always wanted to do, and since I've spent the past few months editing I've finally begun to self-publish. I'll give more details later, but if you want to order it'll be in stores within the year!**

**Onto adventure, my young readers!**

* * *

Chapter 27: Four Steeds

"Look who finally decided to show up," Archer snarked. I shushed him with a glare and a threatening hand motion, then turned to my headmaster and looked him over. His usual green attire had been discarded in exchange for a black three-piece with a green gear emblazoned on the breast pocket. His green tie only solidified his obsession with the color green. His decagonal glasses, crooked as ever, were hooked on one of his pants pockets, while a pair of pince-nez were perched upon his nose. It gave him a more regal look than his previous persona.

The sun's last rays set beneath the ocean as Ozpin stared us down. "Would you like to explain yourself?" I ventured awkwardly. He nodded sharply and sat on my bed.

"It's just conjecture at the moment, but there's a new conspiracy that's going around in the scientific community. You see, there has always been an extremely large influx of Dust within the crust of Remnant, but far below that there is a far more titanic vein, sitting smack in the middle of the core."

"I fail to see how this applies to the Grail," I admitted. Ozpin shifted on the bed and rolled his eyes almost unnoticably.

"Yes, and that was what I was getting to. See, the giant vein of Dust vanished from our sensors approximately nineteen hours ago. There hasn't been any sign of it since, and we have no idea what caused it. No idea... until now."

"So you're saying that the huge Dust vein in the center of Remnant is the energy source that's been feeding the Grail several times over for the past three hundred years?" I asked, feeling a little nonplussed. I didn't know exactly how big this Dust vein was, but it required a monstrously huge amount of prana to even partially charge the Grail, let alone the full thing five times over.

"It would make sense," Ozpin explained. "Think about this: a vein of Dust about seven hundred kilometers across and just under that tall and wide. that's just under a billion cubic kilometers of raw energy, waiting to be unleashed. You've seen how much energy can be unleashed from a single milligram of Dust; try seventy quadrillion full grams."

That... actually, that was terrifying. An atomic bomb didn't even come close to unleashing that kind of energy, and two of the Fat Man was about the amount required to make a wish on the Grail. To have that kind of power equated to enough energy to turn a continent to ashes in one fell swoop. Locked up in the core of Remnant, I could suddenly understand how the Grail pulled up so much power.

"Then, the Dust vein is still there, but the Grail is the one releasing the power?" Ozpin nodded his head in confirmation.

"Yes, that's it. Now that we know what has happened to the Dust vein and the Grail, it will be easier to see what can unravel it and hopefully end the War before it finishes with the death of several Servants. I will not be here often, Shirou; General Ironwood and I will be working in tandem to locate the Grail's power source to the Dust vein the core. It may take a while, but we've managed larger miracles before. If you need assistance, just call and we'll be here as fast as we can."

Ozpin gave me a curt nod and spun on the spot, his suit raising slightly into the air like a curtain of blackness. Just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone and we were alone once more.

"Well, that's another wrench in our plans," Archer said snidely. "What's next, a Dead Apostle Ancestor multiplying these Grimm creatures into oblivion? Oh, maybe a Type running around somewhere in the atmosphere, waiting for the best time to invade this planet? How about some kind of resurrection device that brings back the souls of the long dead?"

I didn't quite have the heart to tell him about the Grimm infestation.

* * *

The first part of the night passed with little excitement. Archer and I sat in tense silence as the stars gradually appeared, glinting like a wave of jewels that embedded themselves in the black curtain of the sky. The ocean glimmered with tiny points of light, and the gently sliding waves and the scent of sea salt calmed my nerves somewhat. Saltwater wasn't that easy to find in Fuyuki, given that it was smack in the middle of Honshu, but on the few trips I'd taken with Kiritsugu and school, I'd found myself enjoying the ocean more than the city. It was simply more... free, for lack of a better word.

"There's activity to the north," Archer said suddenly. The tiny wristwatch that glinted on my wrist ticked to one o' clock just as I turned my eyes and Reinforced to catch any movement. the road began to rumble, and tiny streaks of red and violet flickered up and down the sidelamps. One bulb blew instantly; the other's didn't fare much better. The lights all flickered out, followed by a thunderous boom, for some strange reason, I couldn't help but think that only Archer and I could hear.

A yellow-white pillar of light, shaped just like a cross, appeared a foot off the ground, about a mile in the distance. Out of it came Rider.

Well, it was the chariot that came first, but it couldn't have belonged to anyone but Rider. The frame was made of a white wood that displayed dozens of golden crosses across its length. The lining and wheels were solid gold as well, and it was drawn by four horses: one red, one white, one a pale yellow, and the fourth black. The man behind the silver reins was bald, indicating that he was the Rider from this War.

He rode forward with the grace of a lion and the fury of a thunderstorm. There was a look of complete and utter concentration on his screwed-up face, as if it was taking all of his energy just to keep riding forward. Despite that, however, there was an aura of power that just... rippled off him, like waves in a pool of water. The four horses tossed their heads against the reins in eerie tandem, as if they knew the others' every move.

Rider trotted along with his chariot for a full mile before coming to a stop directly in front of us. He stepped down from his seat and flicked his hand, releasing the horses into four globules of shimmering prana that drained into the sword he held at his hip. I automatically Analyzed; it was a simple longsword, aside from the fact that it had Servant-like strength and durability. There was something off about the jewels in the hilt, though...

Before I could Analyze them further, Rider's booming voice carried up to us. "Master of Archer, come down from your perch!" he snapped, his voice immersed in thrumming power. My eyes automatically flicked down for a moment under the intense weight of his presence, but before I could catch myself, they shot to meet Archer's steel ones. I already knew what he was thinking about; it would only be luck that decided whether or not our plan would work. Since Archer's abilities and my own were so closely interconnected, we both had the same weapons going for us, but...

"What, perchance, do you want with a humble soul such as myself?" I asked. Deciding to oblige him, just for the time being, I dropped down from the roof of Taiyang's house and approached. I could hear Archer's fading snort and mutter of, "Humble, my ass" before he disappeared from my senses. Then, a trace of prana, only a needle-thin line of it, bloomed to life upon the inky curtain of night, held by a bowstring and three delicate fingers. Archer was ready.

"I wish to test your battle prowess myself," Rider declared. I blinked. Most Servants never gave away their intentions, but that was the second time the ones from this War had done so. Were the participants this time around just more blunt than their Fifth War brethren?

"Um... here and now?" I asked. I still felt a bit off from the sudden declaration. "With a ton of sleeping people around, who aren't supposed to know about the War?"

Rider's head jerked towards the still glowing cross that rent the fabric of space like a tear in a tablecloth. "We will take the transportation I have set up to a nondescript location, several kilometers east of this city. I give you my word, upon the name of the Lord, that I shall not harm you until our battle is to commence."

So he was a believer in God, huh? Well, that meant that the Church at least had a record of his existence. Now it was just a matter of figuring out which of the hundreds of saints the Church had he was. I nodded and stepped onto the chariot beside him. The silver beneath me hummed with barely-contained power, and for the first time I realized just how much power the Riders had. Sure, people like Medusa were strong, but they didn't compare to Herakles or Saber, or even Lancer. This man, however, was a strong and silent sentinel, just waiting to be unleashed upon his enemy. I Traced Myrtenaster in preparation.

Archer watched us the whole time we traveled, from when the four differently-hued stallions rose from the depths of Rider's sword to the time when we passed through the portal and I felt a strange, weightless sensation overcome me for the briefest of moments before gravity reasserted itself. All the while, Archer had his arrows trained on me, and not Rider. He didn't trust me completely, and while I could say the same for him, I knew that he wouldn't be going around telling the other Servants all about his Noble Phantasms.

Rider halted in front of a forest glade. The night sky was even brighter and more fluid above us than in the city, and more than a hundred new, faint stars peeked out from the solid plane of black. Remnant's moon was almost negligibly to the left of where it had been a moment ago. It seemed like Rider had kept his word and only transported us a few kilometers. A cricket chirped somewhere to my right, while a pair of birds twiddled along in a jaunty melody that almost had me tapping my foot while Rider disengaged from his horses and chariot. His armor shone with a faint inner light, illuminating the silver in a way that sunlight never could. Did he have the blessing of the Christian God as well? That narrowed the list slightly, but not by much. If only I could get any information on him...

Joyeuse.

The name sent me reeling, as if something was calling out to me that wasn't myself. I looked down at the sword at my hip. Had she just...

Joyeuse, Sword of Glory. The name rippled in my head again, sounding much more like Myrtenaster. Talking swords were rare, even more rare than thinking swords, and while Myrtenaster had never spoken to me, there was no other being that the voice could have come from. It felt like her, with the ring of white steel and the longing for contact and the echoes of pain from having Dust shoved through her several times a day.

If that had been Joyeuse, though, then why couldn't I tell from Structural Analysis? My abilities allowed me to know everything about a sword, no exception. If he had a special concealing Noble Phantasm like Invisible Air, it might have made it unplottable in my mind, but it didn't have anything like that. If it had, I would have Traced the concealer instead of the sword.

Beware the jewels, My Sword. Myrtenaster spoke one last time before retreating into the state I usually felt her in. Beware the jewels? Sure, they held the spirits of the four horses that Rider had been steering, but they couldn't be all that dangerous, could they? I wasn't all that good with Christian lore, as my main areas of study during the Fifth War had been Greece and the British Isles, but I was pretty sure that there were no legendary horses in Christian legend.

"Are you finished introspecting?" Rider asked, just the smallest hint of impatience coloring his flat voice. I turned towards him and, deciding that the battle had officially started, drew Myrtenaster with my left hand. My right found the comforting weight of Caliburn, flowing with golden fire. Rider merely raised an eyebrow before bringing his own sword out of its sheath. Joyeuse glinted with light, but I still couldn't Trace it, no matter how hard I Analyzed.

Rider lifted off the ground and practically flew towards me. His feet only touched the ground once in the two seconds it took for him to cross the fifty meter clearing, but in that time I'd raised Caliburn and drew back with Myrtenaster. The two of us uncoiled as one, a pair of steel that split air itself. Joyeuse exploded against Caliburn in a flash that released more prana than normal Magi could usually put out at one time. Caliburn held strong, the golden fire enhancing its already-blessed strength, while Myrtenaster dug a full centimeter into Rider's gleaming armor before halting completely. That wasn't so surprising- Servant armors were notoriously tough. Hell, I would have been more surprised if Myrtenaster had been able to impale him. Instead, we disengaged, and while I drew Myrtenaster back for another stab, Rider struck. One of the jewels on Joyeuse' hilt winked and vanished. The blade morphed then, so suddenly that I had to redirect myself and fall flat on my ass to dodge the blow.

Instead of the shimmering steel that once constituted Joyeuse' blade, an abomination of nature crawled over the gold crossguard. My Structural Analysis was telling me that, yes, it was indeed organic matter. Black tendrils of what looked eerily like vines crossed all over the now sickeningly-purple blade. The entire sword pulsed with a mold-green light that instilled the air around me with a feeling of cloying thickness. It was nearly a meter longer and about three times as thick as it had once been, a broadsword-turned lance that deserved the adjective "terrifying". I Analyzed.

Pestilence. Conquest. Disease. Pandemic. The sword had many other names, but they all meant the same thing: complete and utter destruction of everything you loved and cared for, first by taking it over, then by disintegrating it into absolutely nothing but the finest of dust particles. It was the living embodiment of all illnesses in the world, twisted so brutally into a malevolent creature that it was impossible to distinguish from Joyeuse. Was that Joyeuse' power? To be twisted into other things, to be a metamorphosis waiting to be completed? It was a template, after all, a regular sword with a lot of history but, at the same time, a lack of it.

The shadow lance of Conquest shot towards me like a bullet, and only a barrier of wind conjured from an impromptu application of Invisible Air on Myrtenaster saved my life. The attack split into four separate pieces, which each flipped around in midair and charged me again. I switched over to the Mongolian way of kyuudou, tossed my two swords in the air to get them out of the way for the time being, and Traced four copies of a sword I knew very well. Hrunting was another of my favorite sword-arrows, mostly because it was so damn efficient. It only cost as much as about Caliburn to Trace, but its attack power was devastating, able to accelerate itself to mach-13 speeds in the span of a second and home in on its designated target. A copy lodged itself in between each of my knuckles, and I fit the first to the outside edge of the bow as opposed to the inside. I wasn't shooting at a still target, here, and quick shooting combined with an old, perfected way of shooting would be my best bet.

As the four Conquests approached, I breathed and fired four shots in the space of a second. The first split the lance it was aimed towards into six pieces, the second missed but whirled around in midair to collide with its target, and the third and fourth both converged on their shots with unerring accuracy. In the end, twenty seven thunks of Conquest's lance were scattered around the area, hovering in midair as if they weren't sure what to do.

"I am surprised," Rider admitted, placing a finger under his chin and resting his jaw on a knuckle. "I did not expect you to be as proficient an archer as you are a swordsman, Master of Archer. I suppose that if I am to use my full power, then I shall give you a handicap, however. My abilities are not to be taken lightly, and I will give you a hint on how they work.

"I have not one Noble Phantasm at my disposal, nor two, but six. My chariot is one, as is my sword Joyeuse, but the real strength of a Rider lies in the things that they ride. My four jewels contain my four horses, and each of my horses brings death and destruction in their wake. You have seen the damage wrought by Pestilence, and War, Famine and Death will be even more destructive." It was true; Pestilence had left its touch everywhere it even came near. The grass in a two meter ring around where it was floating, now having reformed into a single lance once more, was colored a pale acid color, black around the edges. It was as if something had burnt each of the blades individually. The damage was rapidly spreading in all directions. I had no way of knowing if the Aura in my body would react to the virus that Pestilence was releasing, but I wasn't planning on taking any chances. I drew Myrtenaster's shining form across my torso in a slashing manner, bringing my graceful and peerless partner to bear at Rider's heart. Pestilence lazily wafted back to Rider's hand in a smoky breeze that wilted everything it even came near. Pestilence began to writhe, spiralling even more to form a point matched only by the sharpest of Noble Phantasms... and Myrtenaster.

We both shot forward, points clashing in perfect harmony. I threw all of my weight behind my stab a mere second after it began. The chances of two perfect points meeting in perfect balance was a perfect impossibility, but we'd managed it, and Rider was shocked enough to take a second longer than me to respond. Nevertheless, he was too late, and I lobbed Pestilence back before s sentient virus could infect Myrtenaster's beauteous steel. I came back around with Caliburn, landing safely in my hand once more, and slashed. A molten horse's muzzle erupted from the side of Pestilence and caught the writhing mass of fire and steel in its tombstone teeth. I could only watch as the horse head sunk back into the sword-turned-lance, giving Rider a satisfied glance. So the horses had consciousnesses of their own, huh? That certainly made fighting Rider harder, but not a sheer impossibility.

For the first time, a thought barged into my mind that had absolutely nothing to do with the quarrel between us. "Rider, where's your Master? Shouldn't she be here, providing you with prana?"

Rider snarled. "My Master is a headstrong idiot," he growled. "She believes wholeheartedly that 'i can win, which otherwise would be a very encouraging prospect, but she doesn't seem to realize the gravity of the situation. She goes on and on about fighting, but the child-Masters have a better grasp of this War than she does. I left her in her sleep to make sure that she wouldn't distract either of us during our duel. "

Well. That was new. Did all Riders have a grudge against their Masters, or was that just a coincidence from the past two Wars? Medusa had also been so spectacularly violent whenever it came to Shinji; even the mention of his name in passing was enough to send her into a tooth-gnashing frenzy that took a home-cooked meal and a few drops of blood from a virgin (until the last few days of the War, I'd unfortunately been the donor of that blood) to sate her fury. I mean, I hated the bastard for what he and Zouken did to Sakura on a daily basis, but I wasn't like that to him.

"Worry not, Master of Archer," Rider declared again. "You will not find me lacking in prana, for while my Master does not have much to offer, my blessings from the Most Holy Lord will be enough to compensate."

Come on, how hard is it to figure out a Servant with those kinds of hints?! Joyeuse, blessings from the Christian God, and if I wasn't mistaken, his garb was kingly; and don't even get me started on the four horse-jewel-things. Who could it be? Richard the Lionheart, a French king maybe? Was it...

"Charlemagne," I realized with as much vigor as I was feeling. "You are Charlemagne of the Francs, son of Pepin the Short." Now that name I knew. In researching the past Wars, I'd found the Caster's name in his Master's personal journal. It was only slightly disturbing at the time that there was a bright red bloodstain smattering Pepin's identity. Although, how did someone named Pepin the Short become a Heroic Spirit in the first place?

"I am indeed," Charlemagne acknowledged, tilting his head. "It is unfortunate that you have deduced my identity so quickly, but I will make do with what I have. I cannot allow you to come away alive, either. Prepare for utter defeat."

The black tendrils of Rider's lance peeled away, melting into the night as the spectral horse returned to its place inside the black jewel on Joyeuse' pommel. In return, a red horse, utterly identical in everything but its color and its teeth (a glinting set of hooked fangs) covered the sword in its energy, sharpening it until it stood tall as a seven foot war axe. I held Myrtenaster steady in my left, and in my right I traced Conquest. It was nice and satisfying to use an opponent's weapon against them.

The axe was War, and its form reflected its bloodthirst. The glowing red blade appeared almost bloodstained, and its edge was frayed and ragged, covered in notches where rust had eroded away the metal. The entirety of the weapon smoked and fizzled with a combination of smoke and red mist.

Charlemagne pulled the axe, now approximately three times heavier than Joyeuse, onto his shoulder and glared at me. "It was fun testing you, Master of Archer. However, I think now you must die. Nobody has ever staved off War indefinitely, and you shall not be the exception."

"I have a name, you know," I grumbled, raising Conquest to the string of EMIYA's bow and firing it off. War cleaved through the air in a shower of sparks, deflecting Conquest completely. The spear-arrow reached around mid-flight and shot towards Rider again, and this time it was shorn in two. The ragged edges of the White Rider's black plague clattered uselessly to the ground, where they lay dissolving in the moonlight.

That... hadn't happened before. Hrunting was known for shattering in the legend of Beowulf, but against every enemy I'd pitted it with so far it came out without a scratch. What made War so different?

Myrtenaster was in my hand in a flash, the only barrier between me and a suddenly too-close-for-comfort War. I threw it to the side with a shoulder shove and leapt away, channeling prana through Myrtenaster's Circuits and, subsequently, further Reinforcing my body. With my free hand, I pulled a handful of hairs from the nape of my neck and tossed them forward, Tracing the proper symbols to forge them into sword familiars. A dozen copies each of Zelle and Degen wrapped themselves around shrouds of darkness and flew towards Rider. Like Hrunting, half of the hairs met the end of War and were utterly obliterated. The other half chipped the armor of Rider's chest and shoulders, but that was it. So numbers was the key to winning a War. How... fitting.

I Traced three dozen nameless swords behind me, feeling the pull on my Circuits increasing with the burn. They soared through the air with but a thought.

Rider disappeared.

The thirty six swords I'd shot exploded, becoming shards of steel that flew every which way. Spikes of blinding pain erupted in my arms and face when they came too close and I couldn't react fast enough to bring up a shield. Avalon sent shots of luminous prana into my soul, working on fixing my body, even as a good quarter of a liter of blood spilled out of my front and onto my Traced armor. Rider reappeared, smirking just slightly.

"See?" Rider smirked. "I must admit, you had the right idea. War can be won with numbers, but in the end the best way to win a War is with strategy. Unfortunately for you, only I know the strategies for winning with War and I've never used them with this. I'm a little rusty, but I'm sure I will get used to this axe."

Shit. Things were not looking good for me on this one; I was bleeding heavily, there was a chip of metal in my shoulder that completely prevented me from moving my left arm, I couldn't Trace War and use it against Rider, and numbers wouldn't do any good. Unless...

"Trace Bullet," I chanted. A hundred blueprints shot through my mind one by one, appearing for mere milliseconds before going through the manufacturing process and moving on to the next. One hundred Noble Phantasms, the A ranks interspersed within the D and E ranks. Rider smiled at me as if I was a little stupid.

"I told you that numbers don't-" that was all that came out of his mouth before the destructive force equivalent to that of an atomic bomb, focused into a cloud of sharpened steel around three meters in diameter, slammed into him. A white flash, a boom, and a ripple of energy that threw me against a nearby tree came afterwards.

When the light and smoke cleared, there was a twenty foot circle of powdery ash spiralling to the ground around Rider. The grass, earth and even the stones embedded within them had been completely vaporized by the raw surge of prana that had come from my Noble Phantasms. Rider himself was better off, but not by much. It seemed that numbers could indeed defeat War, judging by the shattered axe laying in pieces around the glade. His armor was more scorched than shining at that point, and he sported a deep gash that trailed from his forehead to the end of his nose. I averted my eyes from the glistening bone that the wound revealed and brought Myrtenaster to bear. He had two more horses to go, and I had two more Apocalypses to slay. "Continuous Fire," I ended, smirking just a little bit at the dumbfounded expression on his face.

"...Interesting," Rider mused. "I should have expected that. War can indeed be won by numbers, as long as the numbers are of better quality than the opponent's. In that scenario, strategy is far less useful. Very well, Master of Archer, you have defeated War. I will not deign to use Famine on you, seeing as you already have the means to utterly destroy it. None of my opponents, however, have been able to survive Death."

As if it was a command, the pieces of War collected themselves and melded together again in Rider's hand. Joyeuse glimmered in the moonlight for a scant second before it became something far darker, far more primal, something that my instincts screamed at me to get away from. Distortion ruthlessly tamped them down, and I forced myself to watch in a sort of horrified fascination as Joyeuse inverted on itself, like a moon being hidden by the stormy clouds above. The blade blackened, collecting the ash scattered on the ground. Gold became silver, light became darkness, and the world inverted until there was only Death.

Death's sword was cracked, lines spilling darkness all along the glade. Rider was gone as well, replaced by a skeletal figure with black armor and a hood that wouldn't reveal a face. Wherever he motioned, plants and rodents would wither away like they hadn't been there at all, an ephemeral testament to Death's hold over all things. It chilled both Myrtenaster and I, and it became obvious to us very quickly that if we were even touched by Death, we would most certainly be killed, and people do indeed die when they are killed.

"Myrtenaster, how long can you hold on while using Dust?" I asked softly. The sword buzzed, not a definite answer, but the impressions I was getting from her indicated that she'd be able to last a short time before becoming swamped by pain, so I twisted the rotating dial and activated the forest-green Dust lodged in one of the compartments. A spike of blinding pain shot through both of us before Myrtenaster clamped down on her Circuits and filtered some of the pain out. Likewise, I pulled a bit of the agony from her, and between the two of us we shot forwards in perfect unison.

The acceleration granted to me by Myrtenaster's enhanced form, my Reinforcement, and the natural C- Agility granted to me by Jaune's bodily potential combined in a split second, releasing more energy than your average Saber did. For that tiny second, unaided by anything other than Myrtenaster's guiding touch, I reached the speed of Lancer and erupted beyond it, appearing beside Death in hundredth of a second. Death reacted quickly, but it was still no match for our speed; I Traced Conquest once more and stabbed. The writhing lance screamed with protest as it passed through... air?

the lance had definitely gone through Death, but where flesh would have been on Rider's body there was only air. I scraped a bone and released Conquest in the same instant, Altering it into a remote prana-bomb the detonated as soon as Death completed his first motion. The diseased spear exploded with a flash, but that was it. No sound of squelching flesh, no crunching of shattered bones, not even the tear and hiss of burnt clothing.

It was as if Death wasn't really there, just waiting for an opportunity to strike before revealing himself.

Myrtenaster rose of her own accord and bent my wrist almost backwards, twisting the joint painfully until she was positioned to perfectly block my back. I heard a clang; it didn't take much thought to realize that Death was at my back, ready to reap my life from its fragile form.

I am the bone of my sword.

Myrtenaster erupted with prana, throwing Death across the clearing. In my other hand, I Traced Excalibur Image, its gleaming steel casting off the hazy smoke that Death exuded with a halo of entrancing light. Myrtenaster's proverbial breath hitched, and I stabbed her gently into the ground to wield Excalibur Image with both hands. Without any warning other than my raised prana levels, its form became a stationary meteor, blazing with golden fire.

"Excalibur," Death rasped, voice harsh and scratchy. This was not the Rider I knew of; this was something different, something far more powerful. As such, it needed to be dealt with by the largest and most powerful weapons in my arsenal.

"Yes," I agreed. "Excalibur."

I swung down.

* * *

When Archer felt the first eruption of prana, he assumed it was due to a powerful weapon that Shirou had Traced while in Remnant. Therefore, he did nothing but stare up at the moon as more clouds rolled in from the sea.

When the moon was half-covered, he felt a second explosion of prana, with an accompanying flash of light and tiny gust of wind. It was comparatively normal when it came to Servants, and he couldn't feel the connection between the two of them degrading, so Shirou was still fine, but it set his nerves on edge. He Traced over the red jacket that had been given to him by Rin... how many years ago was that? Seven hundred? Eight? The Shroud of Saint Martin still hung over his shoulder as snugly as it did when she'd first given him the gift, but it suddenly felt like a weight, a constriction that he couldn't quite throw off. The spark of worry inside him grew just a tad.

At the third explosion, he swore and got to his feet. That one had been twice as large as the other two combined! What kind of swords Shirou and Rider were throwing around, Archer didn't have a clue, but he wasn't about to let things be. His main source of prana could die out there, and while he trusted Shirou enough not to get himself killed, he also knew that they both had a tendency to get into life-threatening situations.

Archer flew through the forest, barely even slowing to register the trees in his path before he cut them in twain. Things as small and insignificant as plant life

didn't present any sort of problem to a Servant after all.

Then the fourth blast hit, and Archer was practically halted in midair by the raw force of the explosion. Normally, this wouldn't be that hard when it came to Noble Phantasms, but given that he was still a hundred meters away from Shirou's approximate position and he was traveling at about half the speed of a human bullet train, Archer was shocked. What had he done, released Excalibur? What kind of Rider would warrant such a powerful attack?

Archer shook his head and continued, reaching Shirou in another two seconds. What lay before him was a scene of utter carnage. He assumed that they had been fighting in a glade, but it probably wasn't quite as big as a baseball field when they had started. Everything in that radius had been turned to ash, from the trees to the plants and even the jutting rocks that occasionally found their way to the surface. Shirou was standing in the middle, a frown on his face and his skin thoroughly coated with soot. Across from him, with Excalibur lodged in its gut, was a rattling skeleton with bones blacker than the night that had just been illuminated. A constellation of stars made up each of its eyes, while knives clacked in its mouth, resembling a gruesome interpretation of teeth. It grinned a disgusting grin.

"You have power, Master of Archer," it said in a voice that was neither bitter nor sweet. It merely was, tainted by a sort of cloying decay that made him shiver. Immune to true death as he was, a man so powerful he could invoke an Incarnation of Death was nothing to mess with.

Archer Traced, readying Arondight in his hand. It was a dragon slayer first and foremost, but its properties of "absolute defense" would be a godsend against something that could kill with a single touch.

"You know, it has been many, many eons since someone deigned to unleash a Crystallization against me. You should know that killing Death is a contradiction. However," and here he tensed further, "I do not have a particular wish for that unnatural creation to grant. I will admit that Charlemagne does, but he is not currently the one that matters. I will leave you be. Be warned, however, that one of your number will meet their demise before the end of this War. I will not be denied."

With that, Death became nothing more than an imprint pressed against reality, shattering merely moments later. Archer glanced at Shirou. He was exhausted, clearly, but Excalibur was still holding strong in his hands.

"Who do you think it is?" Archer asked.

"Besides you, Lancer and I? Ruby." Well, that was interesting. What was so special about that little girl that he would assume her death?

The dots connected. Ren was clearly mature enough to recognize what kind of danger the Hunting profession put people in, and aside from Shirou, Blake Belladonna was probably one of, if not the, most talented first year in Beacon Academy. Avoiding death would be no problem for her when it came to small missions. Ruby Rose, however, was a child. If Archer had his way, he'd probably have pitted Ruby against Death that second, just to give the girl a small taste of the scope of danger she was in. She treated death like something to be won with honor, defending one's home until they could no longer continue. She was a child that didn't realize that death was a very real and very high-risk prospect. If Shirou didn't teach her that...

Well, he would have to, of course.


	28. Broken Steel

Chapter 28: Broken Steel

After the battle with Rider, my limbs released their bunched muscles immediately, leaving me to lean haphazardly on Archer as he dragged me back home. Excalibur Image was powerful, so powerful that even in its incomplete form and being used by a completely incompatible being, it still blew a new clearing onto the forest's topography and burnt through more than half my remaining prana in a single go. Excalibur was designed for use by a Pendragon, after all, a legendary line whose blood was born of the dragons themselves. A simple mortal like me didn't stand a chance against its divine light.

So, with my muscles refusing to respond and my mind buzzing with a combination of sleep and thought, Archer threw me onto his back and physically carried me all the way back to Taiyang's house, more than six kilometers away from the forest. After a half hour of Archer walking at a leisurely pace, which would translate as a slow run to most, we reached our shared window. I glanced through the glass at the sweet bed waiting beyond...

And Blake sitting on top of it, sipping a cup of coffee and waiting patiently for my return. Well, this would be hard to explain.

Archer pushed the window pane up and tossed me bodily into the room before dropping down onto the mahogany balcony below to resume his watch. Blake blinked as I went soaring past her and smacked into the wall. My back groaned in pain for a second before Avalon took over and dulled it to a small ache.

Blake took one look at me and sighed, her golden eyes glinting with a combination of exasperation, humor and worry. "Should I even bother asking what you've been through tonight?" she asked, gesturing with her coffee to the empty side of the bed. I pushed myself to my feet, my burning muscles giving a bit. Blake moved to help me up, but I managed to crawl into bed and took a sip from her coffee before she could pull it away. One of my arms- left or right, I couldn't really tell at that point- twitched weakly in protest.

"Got in a fight, kinda won," I said, grinning weakly. I'd learned a long time ago to laugh at my own misery, since it was the only source of humor I seemed to have in my life. "Rider gave me one hell of a challenge, though. Did you know he could turn into Death? Like, Grim-Reaper, the embodiment of Death itself?"

"No, I didn't," she managed. I could almost feel the worry she was exuding at that point, and it was further exacerbated by the hand that gently gripped my chin. She turned my head this way and that, looking for something. A wound, or something else?

"Well, it doesn't look like you have a concussion," she huffed. "It must be exhaustion, then. Go to sleep, and we can talk about this in the morning. Gods know I'll have words for you then."

"Not now?"

Blake smiled and pecked me on the lips before curling up under the covers. "Right now I'd feel bad if I yelled at you. At least tomorrow you'll be healed enough that I won't pity you."

Well at least I had until the morning to be verbally abused. I managed the strength to drape an arm over her lithe form, pulling her in a little bit closer.

* * *

The next morning, I was indeed treated to a diatribe the likes of which I had never heard before, not even by Rin or by Taiga. Blake laid into me for a full hour before finally stopping to drink another coffee. Despite the fury she'd managed to convey through her words and glares, I felt a bit touched- not a lot of people cared about me enough to get that angry at the idea of me getting nearly killed. Actually, there were only four: Kiritsugu, Taiga, Sakura and, surprisingly enough, Issei. I hadn't really been close with a lot of people during school, and although Taiga and Rin cared about me, they didn't to that extent. Taiga just wasn't the sort to get people so close to her, and Rin... well, Rin and I had become good friends during the War but she still would have killed me (indirectly, probably) if that was what it took to get a free wish from an untainted Grail. It was just the kind of person she was, and I couldn't blame her for it.

After Blake's rant was over, Ruby tentatively peeked out from the hallway and called us downstairs for breakfast. With equally ruffled expressions, we followed. Thankfully, Blake wasn't too mad, and by the time breakfast was done the two of us had reconciled any differences.

I hadn't really taken any time to think about it yesterday, but Patch was especially beautiful in the mornings, when the various Grimm species took off for darker waters and the more normal birds came out to play. Despite it being just past winter, there were already flocks of seagulls soaring over the open ocean, which was stained the same pinkish-green color as the dawning sky above. The buildings were equally stunning, a rustic background against the island town that promised fun and adventure. Patch's only skyscraper, towering far above Taiying's humble two-story home, reflected patches of sunlight onto the streets below, chasing away the literal shadows while burying the fear of the proverbial shadows in people's minds. Truly, Patch was a beautiful town.

It made me think about when I would find my way back home, or if I would even get back to my own world again. I couldn't rightly call Remnant my home, but after the Grail War, it was the closest thing I had to it. Half of the Emiya Estate had been burned to ashes during Lancer's final assault, so I couldn't go back there anytime soon. It seemed more and more like Remnant was becoming my permanent home, too, so I could only take so much more hope before I resigned myself to living here.

It wouldn't be too bad, though... would it?

It certainly wouldn't be a bad idea in the long run. Hunting was a ludicrously profitable profession, and every Huntsman and Huntress available to fight against the Grimm invasions got a huge government bonus. I could easily find, or even build, a house and live out the rest of my days here. There were my friends to think about as well. Blake was the first one on my mind, and even though it seemed sort of corny, I could foretell a future where the two of us married and settled down. It would be a happy existence, but would it be enough?

I was a protector, a sword, not a regular human. Would it be enough to hang up my sword and live the rest of my days as a human after these crises are over? What would Blake think of it? She still had unresolved conflicts with the White Fang and that Adam man, but it didn't mean that she-

Adam.

"Fuck," I snapped mid-step. Archer gave me an inquisitive look as I whirled around, trying to take all of the souls around me into account. My prana senses didn't work very well on people with Aura, but it still did, and Adam's distinctive scent, that of a rotting rose, had imprinted itself firmly onto my memory along with his sword, Wilt.

"Finally lost it?" Archer asked, a glint of amusement in his steely eyes. Dammit, now was not the time to be happy!

"Adam," I repeated, this time out loud. Blake froze in her steps. Confusion blossomed on her face for a fraction of a second before it was replaced with sheer horror, the likes of which I had never seen before. Her face whitened far past my own complexion, and the nerves that controlled the dilation of her pupils shrunk them to mere pinpricks. "Adam's a Master?"

Archer looked genuinely worried now. "What are you on about, Shirou?"

I shook my head and Traced a copy of Wilt before chucking it at him. It would be easier to do things through memory with him anyway while Blake and I explained it to our other guests. "Adam's a Faunus friend of mine," Blake explained. "The two of us used to work for the White Fang, back when it was... relatively peaceful. Things started getting worse about two years ago, and I quit, but... Adam stayed behind. He ended up hating humans with a passion after I left, but I'm still not sure why. Back when we were in Forever Fall, collecting Aldor Sap. You guys remember when Shirou and I disappeared?" She frowned at their affirmative nods. "I met him again, a few minutes after that happened. He had... he had Command Seals."

Archer choked at the same time as she finished her sentence, looking at Wilt and Blush like they were a thing of blasphemy. "Shit," he muttered. "Shirou, are you absolutely sure about this? Eight Servants? What the fuck is the Grail trying to pull here?"

"What if it isn't the Grail?" Ren asked, tilting his chin to the side. "You know how Ozpin theorized the Dust in the core of Remnant being a crucible and recharging station for the Grail? Who's to say an equal quantity of Dust could be used to summon a Servant?"

I mulled the theory over. While Archer began throwing his prana around like mad, trying to find a trace of Adam, I plugged the calculations into my head. That much energy would need at least twelve tons of raw Dust to be used, and about nine tons of refined, but the potential was still there. The White Fang had been going after Dust shipments for more than a year, and the average Schnee tanker carried about a ton and a half of cargo (thanks to Weiss for the information). It would only take six of those shipments to match the refined Dust quota, and the White Fang had undoubtedly stolen at least that much in their time. It would take some time and a lot of sneaky double-stealing from his own company, but it would be easy for Adam to secure all of that energy in... about a week, give or take a day or two.

"That still doesn't explain why he has Command Seals," Archer butted in. "If he were just summoning a Servant, then the soul would be bound to his and the Servant would be unable to disobey him no matter what. The Grail War, however, has different rules behind it. The Grail itself is the one doing the soul binding, so it uses the Command Seals as an anchor to the spirits' souls and give Masters command over their Servants in that way. It is a far more tenuous connection, one that allows neither the Master nor the Grail to completely and fully control their Servant, but it still gives them a compulsion to obey. The Riders and Archers have an easier time of going against their Masters' wishes, but in the end we still have the desire to obey. The Command Seals are important for a reason, Lie; when they are used up and the Master has given all three of their absolute commands, they disappear and link the Servant with the Grail once again, allowing it to be absorbed directly instead of by the Lesser Grail."

"But then the Command Seals would be engraved onto the hand for a different reason," I argued. "Those weren't ordinary Command Seals- they were runes. Not just any runes, but Runes. Perhaps they could be used to craft an obedience geas onto the Servant he summoned. Adam has been shown to be sneaky and resourceful from what I've heard of him, and that would fit his personality perfectly."

Blake frowned, but nodded at the slightly blunt description. "It does indeed sound like something he'd do."

Archer looked thoughtful, but it was Lancer that finally broke the silence. "It could work, but only with the same set of runes three times around a Catalyst Line," he mumbled. I forgot that in addition to his sheer battle prowess and superb stats he was a scholar that exceeded most other Magi that currently existed, with a knowledge of Runic combinations that could only be matched by an Elder God. If there was anyone who could solve our current dilemma in regards to the beastlike Adam, it would be him. "I'll do some thinking, but I don't know how well the results will turn out. Binding Runes were never my forte, anyway."

I nodded to him, accepting the excuse as easily as anything else so far. Lancer couldn't figure it out right now anyway; Tabitha was a priority in both his and my eyes, and he'd kept an eye on here faithfully the entire time we'd been on Patch. That aside, there was only one problem remaining with Adam: what kind of Servant he would be able to summon.

In all of the manuscripts I'd read about summoning human familiars, there was never a mention of the seven Servant classes of the Grail War, so there were three reliable options remaining. He could have summoned an Avenger like in the Third War, which was probably the most likely prospect. Adam would bond immediately to an Avenger, considering he probably thought of himself as one. The second option, as well as the most unlikely, was the Saver class. To my knowledge, there had only been one Saver-class familiar in all of existence, and he was summoned as the Buddha himself. There were legends within the Magus community that whoever managed to summon the Saver would become the next Saver themselves. It was probably bullshit, but I wasn't so keen on allowing a twisted, jaded man like Adam to become one of the most powerful human familiar types the world had ever known.

The final option available was the Ruler class, a class that was recorded to be much like the Saber; in fact, Rin had once said that Zelretch had offhandedly mentioned to her that Saber's basic design had been based off the Ruler class during a discussion on the effects of inverted crystals to prana construction. Rulers were honestly the class I was most afraid of, mostly because the last person to have been summoned as a Ruler- Joan of Arc- had completely crushed an attempt at recreating the Grail War within Greece. The power that a Ruler wielded was ridiculous, to the point where it would take two Dead Apostle Ancestors to subdue one, and three to return it to the Throne of Heroes.

No, I definitely didn't want to face off against that, even with Ozpin, Archer, Lancer and Assassin on my side.

"Chances are he's summoned Avenger," Lancer said slowly, looking to me for confirmation. When I nodded, he continued more confidently, a bright and calculative gleam in his red eyes. He exhaled, and for a brief second I smelled a combination of dewy grass and fresh blood. "He'll sympathize most with someone who's been severely wronged in their past life. Angra Mainyu is still in the Grail, but who knows how many people qualify for that class."

"Has he showed his face yet?" Ruby asked. "I'm gonna pummel his face in!"

"Not likely," Blake and I said at the same time. She gave me a strange look before turning back to Ruby. "You're good at fighting, Ruby, but a student at Beacon would have a horrible time even trying to get close to Adam. He's a very strong person, at the teachers' level at least. Only Shirou would have a chance to kill him, and it would take him going all out."

Archer snorted.

For a split-second, nobody was quite sure how to react. A twittering bird swooped down and landed on his hand, taking a small peck at whatever he was holding. That was... odd. In Fuyuki, animals generally avoided Archer, probably because he smelled like a combination of blood, sweat and steel. Birds generally didn't have an affinity for murder, so why would one like him?

"Do you have something to say, Archer?" Blake asked, the slightest hint of irritation seeping into her voice.

"Shirou could kick this Adam's ass if he wanted to." The bluntness of the statement surprised, Blake but before she could respond he was already rolling again.

"Don't forget, I am Shirou Emiya, and I can tell you his limitations in an instant. This Adam would be destroyed with his current stats."

"You don't understand how strong he is," Blake argued. "Adam can-"

"If he's human he won't stand a chance, even if he trained for another three decades."

Blake didn't have much else to say about that. Neither did I, in all honesty. Archer sounded so sure, like he'd known for certain that Adam wouldn't stand a chance. Yes, I was pretty sure that I could beat him if I wanted to, but not like it was a total beatdown, like Archer was implying it would be. From what I'd seen of Adam's physique and weapon, he favored strong attacks that took a while to charge up. Having a meat-shield like Avenger would be the perfect Servant for him.

What a scary thought.

* * *

Blake didn't look at Archer once during the whole time we were out. She stuck to me instead, clasping her hands around an arm in a way that reminded me of the way Issei's girlfriend would greet him each day. It surprised me that the gynophobe actually managed to find love, but then it was either getting over his fear of women or being alone for the rest of his life, and in Japanese society being single wasn't looked on very well.

Ozpin met us at a small cafe on the corner of Patch's main street. By the time we arrived, he was already sitting down and sipping a cup of coffee. There were two others with him. The first,, a tall man that nearly reached Archer's height, shifted uncomfortably in his seat every now and then. His black-grey hair shifted just a little, and I caught the glimpse of a suspiciously glaring blue eye before he turned to the second.

This man was definitely more wild-looking than either Ozpin or his guest. He had an eyepatch covering his left eye that glinted with a massive Dust gem, situated right in the center of a five-layered circle that looked very much like the Summon Servant circle. One of his arms was missing as well, judging by the way his right sleeve hung loosely against the table. He had black hair that reached all the way down to his shoulder blades, a sharp face, and a frown on his face that seemed so natural that it might have been perpetual if it weren't for the laugh lines on his forehead. His suit, unlike Ozpin's green or the first man's white, was a deep blue that looked almost black. He glanced over at us, his one eye sharpening in caution, before he beckoned Ozpin to look at us.

I instinctively changed out of Gilgamesh's armor and into one of the gray suits I'd bought the day before. Archer followed suit, switching his usual clothes with a red tie and black slacks that looked like they belonged in the early 1900's. I could still see his hands clenching and unclenching, ready to summon a Caladbolg or pair of Married Blades the second the situation detonated, but he held off on the urge.

As Ozpin waved us over, I shifted my attention to the cafe we had stepped into. A bald black man, maybe forty, glanced at Archer from behind the bar before resuming his task of polishing a glass to what looked like a diamond polish. The walls shone in the reflection of the yellow sun, creating pure white spots against the white tile. I blinked a flashing spot out of my eye and turned to the table.

"Ah, Shirou, Archer," Ozpin greeted, raising his hand slightly. "Sit down, I have a few people I'd like you to meet."

Blake sat to my left, Archer to my right. Only I noticed the tiny flash of light, hidden by a flash of light that emerged from behind a cloud, that signalled Archer's Tracing of Kanshou and Bakuya. I frowned at him, to which he responded with a wicked grin.

"So this is the kid, huh?" the eyepatched man said, giving me a small smirk. My fingers itched, and I had to suppress the sudden urge to use a slowly shifting spot of light on the wall as a distraction to summon my own sword.

"Behave, Baird," the other man said sternly. His arm shifted, and from beneath the sleeve came a grinding sound, not unlike metal scraping against metal. I caught a peek of pure white under the hem of his sleeve before he shifted, hiding it from view again. So this man had at least one robotic limb, then. He was most likely a retired Huntsman himself, from the military if the ramrod straight posture and the way his hands were both stuffed hastily into his coat were anything to go by. The other man, though... I didn't know what to make of him. He was like Archer in a lot of ways; his relaxed posture either meant that he didn't feel like he was in danger or he wasn't all there, while the hand casually tapping against the pistol at his hip signalled a combination of bloodthirst, impatience and boredom.

"Shirou, I'd like you to meet General James Ironwood of the Atlas Continental Army and Professor Hitma Baird, Vale's foremost Dust researcher and technician. They're here to discuss our little problem."

"And you thought that inviting the Church wouldn't have been a good idea?" A voice snapped from behind me. "This is our War, after all. You have some nerve, Ozpin."

I might have been the only one to sit still in my seat, but that didn't put me any less on edge. I merely glanced over my shoulder, recognizing the soft blue skirt and white blouse as belonging to Ciel. Well, that and the massive Seventh Scripture hanging off her back from a diamond-patterned strap. My team all jumped, Ozpin blinked and turned, Ironwood and Baird swore and reached for their weapons and Archer snorted.

Like a pig, that one. Always snorting like it's the funniest thing in the world.

"Miss Ciel," Ozpin murmured. "I wondered if the Church would have their eyes on this operation. It seems that nothing goes without notice in Patch, does it?"

"Not while we're around," Ciel snapped back. She glanced to me, looking for some sort of instruction; I was the one that knew Ozpin best, after all, and I was the one who would know if he had any ill intentions regarding the Grail War. I searched his form for a second, trying to read the basics of the body language I'd been taught. When nothing untrustworthy, no hidden weapons or tenseness associated with nerves, showed, I waved her down and gestured to one of the two open seats left at the table. "I'll give you one warning, Ozpin," she continued, glaring at the current bane of my peace and quiet. "Do not try to mess with the events that are unfolding. If you do, destruction will befall this city."

"Is that a threat, young miss?" Ironwood said lowly, shadows hiding his face as he bent down and glowered at her. She shook her head.

"In the two Grail Wars that have unfolded that went against the established methods," she explained, "both ended with destruction of at least half a square mile worth of real estate. I am not willing to risk that many lives, even to obtain a wish. Tread carefully, Ozpin, because you will have the full might of the Burial Squad against your head if you don't. This is strictly a Magus affair; be thankful we're even allowing you to participate in the first place."

"Now listen here, little girl..." That was as far as Ironwood got before the table in front of us was pierced with eight Black Keys: five from unseen Executors hidden around the cafe, one from Ciel, and one each from Archer and I. We both glanced towards each other, hoping for the intimidation factor to work. Thankfully, it seemed that while the general wasn't as fazed as a normal human, he still stumbled back a step before he could regain control of his mental faculties and balance himself on the seat of his chair. The glinting keys seemed almost innocently sitting at the table with us, but I remembered the last thing the Keys in my database had accomplished, that being the piercing of a very unfortunate Gilgamesh's kneecap.

"I think it's time that we got down to business, eh?" Baird asked jovially, completely ignoring the lightly sweating Ironwood next to him. He pulled his hands from

his lap, along with a thick manila folder. He slid the paper stack over to meet and gestured for me to open it. "That's the most we could collect from the core's data," he explained at my confused look. "I can't guarantee you'll understand everything, but give it a shot."

I flipped open the folder and spread a series of charts and diagrams across the table. The first few consisted of mostly the same thing; a set of energy readings that had been collected over the years. Strangely, the rotational velocity of the liquid inside the molten part of the core was increasing as the years passed, making the planet spin ever so slightly faster every year. Another strange fact was the series of dips that occurred regularly until about twenty years ago, when the dip became far sharper and shorter than the three that had occurred before it. That must have correlated to the appearance of the Grail during the Fourth Holy Grail War. The next one had happened a scant two years ago, being the lowest point by far, as well as the longest that drop had been active. It had, apparently, been strong enough to revert the planet's rotation to the point from before the Grail's appearance in the first War. The graph ended with a sharp drop, not as deep a dip as the Fifth War, but lower than any of the other four. This current War, then. The second and third diagrams displayed a sphere with an irregularly shaped polyhedron inside of it. The sphere was a vivid, translucent shade of blue, while the thing inside was shaded a deep and obtrusive purple.

The chart beside it showed another scan of the crystal deep beneath the earth, twenty years later and just after the Fourth War. The crystal had shrunk considerably in size, as if the matter itself was being used up to create a wish. Then again, it probably was, if the magnitude of energy required to do so was correct.

that also meant two very important things in regards to Dust. Everyone knew that Dust would eventually run out, but by the estimates buried deep within the folder, the natural Dust that was being used as practice rounds for the Hunting Academies would run out within twenty years if something wasn't done, and the Dust used to fuel many of today's machine would dry up within fifty. That was where the size of the crystal came in. Obviously, Dust assimilated matter and changed it to match itself, slowly growing over the years. The problem was that it seemed to be a very slow process, and it wouldn't resolve the need for Dust, even if all of the Dust being used right now was confiscated to grow more. Dust was a powerful thing, and that energy was highly sought after. If we could accelerate the growth of that Dust, however...

"What accelerates its assimilation?" I asked carefully. Baird looked absolutely delighted for a moment before his serious face came back on. The Dust gem adorning his eyepatch glinted, revealing a twisted kaleidoscope of shapes and colors before settling on me with a piercing blue dot.

"The growth rate fluctuates from type to type, and then from level of impurity. Unfortunately, the most impure crystals- that is, the ones that contain the most foreign substances to those we have identified as being exclusive to Dust- tend to grow the fastest, and the extraction process takes time that we do not have. The purest crystals take the most time, obviously, but they are also extremely volatile, making handling them a dubious task for even me. The Dust that most Huntsmen and Huntresses are supplied with are only grade IV or grade III, as opposed to grade VII and above. That is kept strictly for research labs, and anything above grade XIII is left in the mines and kept as far away from civilization as possible. If those things were ever to explode, then they could easily take out a city block with just a single gram.

"The Dust within the core of Remnant is grade XX, the highest we've encountered so far and possibly the highest grade that currently exists on our planet. The fact that it's gone, and supposedly channels the Grail that you speak of," and here Ciel gripped the Seventh Scripture until her knuckles were white, a look of irritation encompassing her normally pretty features, "can only mean that the people who founded this War managed to not only come into contact with it, but control it to a degree that was previously unheard of within the research circles I've been associated with. This kind of Dust could, certainly, bring a wish into reality, but it could also mean the end of the continent, if not the world."

Baird gestured to one of the last diagrams in the folder, a carbon copy the one I was just looking at without the Dust crystal. "Right now there is a massive hole in the planet's core, filled by a pocket of air that is pushing against the mantle. It lacks the energy required to break through to the crust at the moment, but with all the heat that's emanating from the core, that could very quickly change. Give superpressurized air enough energy, and it explodes. Violently. To be specific, a blast of this magnitude would shatter the crust and push a tenth of the mantle through the atmosphere and into space, instantly killing more than a quarter of all life in existence and throwing humanity into deep space with only tiny chunks of atmosphere, provided by asteroids no more than one hundred kilometers across, dotted with trees, livestock, Grimm and people."

I frowned. "I suppose putting that as a 'problem' is an understatement, then."

"You're damn right," Baird snapped. "We need you to finish this Grail War, and fast. Otherwise, all that air's gonna go off in sixty-eight hours, and that's if we're lucky. It'll probably be closer to sixty-four."

"Son of a bitch," Archer swore, glaring at the ground below him. The implications here were terrifying. If the air pressure progressed to that point and we didn't clean up the Grail War in that time, then earthquakes and tidal waves would become increasingly frequent and intense, disrupting the natural order of the world. Things would eventually get so bad that we wouldn't be able to conduct a Grail War without having an earthquake or two per minute, and by then shit would be fucked anyway. Putting a time limit on the Grail War made things even more dangerous, but it also gave me a bit of an advantage. With Rider down and Assassin possibly on our side, we only had three Servants to go through. Of those three, Berserker was a complete unknown but probably wouldn't be able to stand up against all three of our alliance, Saber had a quarter of his lives lost, and Caster was a sneaky sonuvabitch with a propensity for teleportation. Honestly, killing him would be easy if Archer or I got a clear shot in, but that would be hard.

In the end, though, it was still an improvement over the last Caster... or any other Caster. Between Archer and I, we could shield our team from nearly all of Caster's known Actions, and Lancer was a supreme long-range attacker with Gae Bolg. The three of us, if we were prepared and knew when and where Caster would next strike, could kill him without any troubles. I would be going all out- Unlimited Blade Works and all- against Saber the next time we met, and Berserker would be crushed under the power of two EX-class Excalibur Images. It was the perfect strategy.

It was also wishful thinking.

That was the ideal strategy, but it relied on Caster not staying in his Territory for an extended period of time, Berserker not being strong enough to match Saber, and Saber's Master not being present when we attacked. Cinder Fall was a scary person, one who could easily match up with me, and possibly fight on Ozpin's level.

Honestly, we needed time that we didn't have.

"So what do we do about this?" I asked. "Or, rather, what is the military going to do about it? The Church has already made it clear that they aren't going to get anyone involved," I nodded towards Ciel, "and the Church can be very thorough when they want something to happen. There's no way that the military can get involved with direct fighting. The only way you'll be able to participate is by ordering an evacuation of the town, and the local police force and Huntsmen aren't nearly stupid enough to follow that order. They'll recognize that something is wrong in an instant."

"We are going to order an evacuation of Patch," James began, "but we're not taking such a straightforward action. We'll call it a gas leak that may have a chance to permeate the entire town and have the citizens airlifted to Vale. The local Huntsmen and Huntresses will be assigned low-risk missions that have the duration of about two weeks. That should ensure that the environment will be open to both day and night battle."

"Satellites will be able to observe the area," I pointed out. James shook his head.

"The members of the Science and Development department are working on hacking the low-orbit mapping satellites in a thousand-kilometer radius from our position. Most of them are Mistral's although Vacuo has several up there as well. The other three leaders can't know about this, so we're having our hackers work with a group of freelance informants called the Scions. It will shift blame from the Atlas and Vale military, and if the Scions do get caught, we've already promised full compensation for their members- namely, a free pass to any two military projects and all of the information contained therein."

Wow. The military must be taking this incredibly seriously if they were giving away information. The Scions, though I'd only heard of them twice in my entire time on Remnant, had a tendency of turning up when world-changing events would occur. They were akin to a terrorist group in that they were wanted by nearly every government that had existed in the past seven hundred years, though they'd never been caught once. Aside from that, the Vale military hated giving away what precious information they had. A free pass on any two projects, no matter how top secret, to a terrorist organization... James was betting quite a lot on the Scions.

"The Church won't like this," Ciel sighed, thumbing the lock on her Seventh Scripture nervously. She glanced around the room, checking the spots that would hold the most structural integrity. Finally, she scowled and gave James and Baird piercing glares that would have made a lesser man wet themselves. To Ciel's credit, they looked like they could pass out at any moment. "I'll inform Mr. Dawn immediately, and then we can use the emergency loudspeaker system to inform the other Masters."

James stood, shaking the wrinkles out of his white coat. Baird opted to lean back in his chair and sip whatever was in his thermos, while the rest of us turned our eyes to Ozpin. He had set his cane on the table, which seemed strange for one reason and one reason only: in the entire time that I'd known Ozpin, he had never once put down his cane-sword. I suppose he must have put it somewhere while he slept and showered, but other than that he carried it with him at all times. It had to mean something, but what?

"This meeting, then, is officially adjourned." James stepped away from his seat and out the door, walking with an ever-so-slight limp that all but confirmed his mechanical leg.

"What do we do now?" Archer asked, twirling Kanshou and Bakuya as he pulled them from under the table.

"Simple," I replied. My mind fully clicked once again, and I pulled myself all the way back to the final days of the Fifth War. This was where I belonged, on the battlefield. I pulled a blueprint from my mind, and Caliburn, burnished sheath and all, shimmered into view.

"We fight."


	29. Scatter

Chapter 29: Scatter

By the time we made it back to Taiyang's house, he was already packing. I Analyzed a long, gold gauntlet that extended all the way up his forearm as he locked it in place. It was vaguely reminiscent of Yang's own Ember Celica, and I could guess who had taught her to fight. He looked up, eyes molten with excitement.

"It seems like I'll have to leave the house for a few days," he explained. "I just got a mission in from Atlas; they need a team of Huntsmen stationed on Unravel to dispatch-" He stopped when Ozpin walked into the room, his cane in his hand once again. "Oh, it's you. Hello, sir."

There was a distinct lack of inflection in his voice, and it was only the way that one of the swooping curves on the gauntlet trembled slightly that I realized he was angry. There was many a reason to be, after all; both Summer Rose and Raven Branwen had been assigned missions that Ozpin knew they couldn't handle. Fighting Goliaths solo wasn't unheard of, but at the time both of them had been rookies, and from what I'd heard, those Goliaths had lived for at least a century without any human contact, growing larger, stronger and more intelligent with time. It wouldn't have surprised me if the one they'd fought, four years apart, was the same one; Grimm were practically immortal, only dying from physical aggravation and immune to all forms of disease and age.

Taiyang was furious with the man, and it looked like Ozpin understood that.

"I'll be watching these ones for a few days, Taiyang," he said. Like Taiyang, there wasn't much emotion in his voice, although a pervading pang of pain and sadness rippled through mine and Myrtenaster's hearts as one. "Do your magic."

"Don't get anything on the countertops," he growled as he shoved past Ozpin and I, his luggage slung over one large shoulder. "I paid a fortune for that granite."

With that, he slammed the door shut, leaving my team, the Servants, and Ozpin in relative silence. Ruby looked absolutely bewildered, while the rest of us were glancing between Ozpin and Taiyang's retreating form, visible only through a chink in a slightly torn curtain. I stepped into the kitchen, trying to focus on something other than Taiyang's family issues.

Well, at least he invested in good countertops. Not as high-quality as some of the leather I'd seen, but I digress.

The moment we were all seated around Taiyang's countertops, I slid my map of the city out for all to see. Lancer and I, over the course of several days, had added to it and marked off locations where either Servants were likely to be located or where battles were likely to take place. There was only one spot marked off: an old, abandoned shopping complex that positively reeked of prana.

"Alright," Lancer began, tapping various locations with his spear and making them glow with ethereal blue light. A rune marked off each of our suspected positions, and a circle of the tiny markings rounded off the shopping complex. "We have a plan of action in effect starting in two hours. Blake, you, Ren and

Ruby are going to finish negotiations with Assassin and her Master. Ozpin, you will subdue Berserker for the time being. If you cannot kill him, then keep him in place long enough for us to get there. Herakles has strength that far surpsasses yours, but you might able to eke him out in speed and stamina. Tabitha and myself will deal with Berserker; he's fast, I love a good challenge to my speed. His Master doesn't seem to be a pushover either, but she's headstrong and overconfident from what I saw at the banquet. As for Archer and Shirou, you will be infiltrating Caster's Territory and gather information. If the opportunity presents itself and you have the ability to do so, kill him. That man is far too dangerous to be left around for the other Servants to ally with. Caster's Territory will create some problems, but..."

"We're familiar with fighting within an opponent's Territory," Archer finished, looking smug. "They're all essentially the same. Just a power boost and a monitoring ground for the Caster, and possibly another side effect if the Servant is particularly weak to help balance their ineptitude out. This'll be easy."

"You said that about Medea," I reminded him. He scowled and furrowed his brow, shooting me the coldest glare he could muster before turning away and fiddling with Kanshou below the table.

"This is no time to get overconfident, Archer," Lancer snapped. It was so strange to see the normally wild hero be the serious one instead of Archer that I momentarily floundered for something to say. When nothing came up, I settled for sitting back, grabbing a back of half-eaten popcorn off the counter from the night before, and set to chomping on the kernels as Lancer berated my Servant. "The last time this happened you were beaten by a human," he continued. That human had been me, but I'd let it slide. "Get your shit together, Archer, because we can't afford to waste time and energy with half-assing it. Go all out from the beginning, or else you will probably die. I mean it,, too; You and Shirou better do whatever reality-defying thing that you do because there's no better way to cancel a Territory than with a Reality Marble."

Archer looked scandalized, as if there was no way another Servant could match his level of skill. I suppose that was the biggest difference between the two of us; he was proud of his abilities, to an almost disturbing degree. I did indeed take pride in my weapons, but not my skills. The skills all belonged to someone else, someone who worked far harder than I ever would for their right to be called a Hero. That's why I was a Faker: one who fakes fits me perfectly. I supposed being modest was a bit of an overstatement in my case, considering how powerful my skills were in the case of a Grail War, but I was nothing like my Counter Guardian half.

"He's right, Archer," I said after a moment. "We can't afford to underestimate Caster while this battle royale is going on. You saw how easily he snuck up on us earlier, and if he can do that while he's outside his Territory, then his power within the Territory is going to be phenomenal. That doesn't even begin to cover his massive offensive power. If we're going to win this, it's going to take a pair of Excalibur Images to trap him into position, and a Vasavi Shakti to kill him, at the least."

Archer scowled, but didn't say anything. He was at least smart enough to know when he was outmatched which seemed to be a good thing, My team and Ozpin just watched the passes with silent judgment.

"Now that that's over with," Ren began after a pregnant pause. "I think we should get to work right away. If we have to fight, do it after the civilians are gone. Archer, Shirou, am I to assume you'll form a more elaborate plan once you get there?"

Archer and I both nodded, lying through our teeth as we did so. The two of us were better meant for facing enemies head on and completely obliterating whatever stood in our way. Now that I had some serious reserves to back up my powerful weapons, it would be a simple matter to fight Caster into a corner and get a lucky shot. Simple, yes, but probably extremely hard in practice. The old man was fast in addition to being able to apparently teleport.

"That's it then. Let's go." Without even saying goodbye, Ozpin was gone in a flicker of green and the faintest of whirrs, like a multitude of rusted gears had moved him from place to place. Ruby and Ren were the next to go; they'd bonded quite well in their time and had gotten to reading the other's body language to a T. Lancer and Tabitha were next. Lancer leapt up the stairs and gently roused her from her sleep, and it was only then that I realized it was still about noon. The darkness of the War must have made the sun's glow seem muted, because I glared into its burning, egregious depths without feeling even the slightest twinge of pain in my eyes.

Once Lancer was gone and Archer nodded a goodbye to me, Blake and I were the only ones left in the house. She slinked over, distinctly catlike in gait, and pressed her mouth to mine. I pushed back. Something that wasn't quite happiness and wasn't quite infatuation but was most certainly love bloomed in the pit of my stomach during those eternal three seconds.

"Don't you dare die on me," she said the moment we separated. "When we get back, you're taking me on a date, a real date, and then you're going to fuck me until I can't walk. Understood?"

I gave her a mock-salute that didn't fit with the genuine smile I felt spreading across my face. "Understood, Blake."

I darted forward and kissed her again, a little longer this time. "'That goes for you too," I mumbled. "Don't die, and keep our team safe."

Blake only nodded and turned around, gripping Gambol Shroud so tightly I thought the Kevlar and metal grip would shatter. I caught the nervousness in her eyes just before she stepped through the doorway; neither of us wanted to fight in this War, and I think she was just as unhappy with our relationship progressing so fast as I was. That wasn't to say I didn't like her, far from it, but we both needed to slow down and enjoy a relaxing, peaceful evening with dinner and the silence of Vale embracing us. It was the situation with Saber all over again, and provided that Blake didn't die like she had, the something we had would most likely become true, natural love.

I frowned and checked the time. It was still too early for me to grab something to drink without repercussions, and today was a day I wanted to be sober for anyway. There was a chance that this would devolve into a six-way brawl, and I wouldn't want to miss that.

Hold on a minute.

March the eighteenth. That was my- or rather, Jaune's- seventeenth birthday. The day that the Curse of the Dweeb would release and I'd get a strong boost as well as access to a couple of Noble Phantasms that I already suspected.

A tiny smirk played across my lips, and in that moment, even though I hated it with all my being, I couldn't help but feel like Archer. This was going to be a lot easier than I'd originally anticipated. Together, Archer and I could certainly take down the Caster when my Curse shuts off, and then I could round up the others and work with Ozpin to defeat Cinder and Herakles.

Oh, right, Cinder and Herakles.

In all honesty, they were almost perfect for each other, and not just because Cinder probably preferred tall men. Her specialty was long-range combat, although she could easily perform short-range if it came down to it. That meant that while Herakles was slamming away at his opponent, she could shoot bursts of fire and magma that would make a baby dragon jealous. The worst part was that Herakles' innate Magic Resistance probably made him immune to those blasts, so Cinder didn't have to worry about blasting the tar out of her precious Saber in the meantime.

Such a dangerous combination was best left for Ozpin, at least until Caster and Berserker were taken care of.

If everything went well, which, in all fairness, it usually didn't, then Assassin would be on our side and we would be down to a single Servant by the end of the day.

* * *

Ozpin strolled through the town at a leisurely pace, ignoring the dozen or so people stepping out of their homes with hastily-packed bags and scowls on their faces. His cane tapped jauntily against the smooth concrete, swinging perfectly with his gait. He glanced behind his shoulders and shot off a pulse of emerald Aura, almost unnoticeable in the throng of people that were emerging from their houses and herding in the direction of the only airport on the island. The Aura bounced off of dozens of people, locating their pinpoint positions around him before bouncing back and feeding him terabytes of information in the span of a millisecond. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary- yet.

He casually stopped in the middle of the street and, blanketing his Aura around his form, slowed his perceptions by nearly half. The world blurred into motion around him: families darted through the streets like water striders dancing across a pool's surface, their eyes sliding over his form as if he wasn't even there. Ozpin smirked and waited, first one minute, then five and ten. Finally, when the last of the people left the streets and he felt nothing around for at least a mile, he resumed his body's normal speed.

Sometimes it was good to be a time manipulator. It certainly helped with all the paperwork Beacon inevitably went through.

Ozpin sent out a fourth pulse of Aura, and this time something pinged in his senses. He twirled his cane once, releasing the latch that held the metal sheath to the hilt and tossing it away as if it were no more than an unsightly scrap of trash on the street.

"Prepared as always, Professor," Cinder voiced from behind him. He gave her a small smile and a knowing look before setting the tip of his Crystal Clockwork against the asphalt. The point sunk in as easily as if it were piercing water, the luminous steel looking every bit like a long bar of emerald. Cinder breathed in the smell of wind that accompanied the release of his sword and sighed heavily.

"You know, I can't help but think that in some other world, you and I would have made a fine team. Think of it, Ozpin! A whole horde of Grimm, completely under our command! We could conquer nations, destroy countries, and I could finally get a ride on a goddamn Beowolf!"

Ozpin shook his head, smirking ruefully. "You know Mother would never let you do that, Ms. Fall. I still remember the day I tried to get past the Royal Guard of the First Circle. You wouldn't look good with white hair and soul scarring, now would you?"

"Your mother doesn't scare me!" Cinder snapped, shifting from pleasant to crazed in a fraction of a second. "Your mother did this to me, the bitch! I've waited and trained for fourteen years to kill that psychotic abomination and I will not detained by the likes of you!"

The Servant (Saber, if he remembered correctly) looked curious at the unexpected development, but pushed it no further than what Cinder had already said.

He did, however, notice his Master's raging eyes and slid into a battle stance born from decades of practice. Ozpin pulled Crystal Clockwork up from where it was resting serenely into the ground. The familiar emerald-green silhouette of a gear locked itself into place, burning on the edges of his left temple. The second and third were already beginning to rise to his skin, reflecting the boiling power hidden just underneath the surface.

"This isn't going to be fun," he warned both his sword and his opponents. Crystal Clockwork pulsed with approval. Its inner workings were lost on Ozpin, but the centuries-old device was clearly conscious of the decisions that he made, and possibly even of the outside world.

More of his Mother's work than his own, but that hardly mattered when two great warriors crossed blades.

He tripled his natural time as Saber approached, ready to parry the monstrously fast strike with strength worthy of the Wizard of Beacon Tower.

* * *

Lancer smirked, twirling Gae Bolg idly as he shoved past the departing citizens. Tabitha walked steadily beside him. Flickers of worry and confusion stained her prana, and although she had a massive abundance of the stuff, it barely leaked out of her petite form. It was almost always the sign of a strong soul, both physically and emotionally.

"Berserker, Berserker, now where would you be?" he hummed, glancing around for the tall Native American form that signalled his opponent. His Master was a waif of a woman, but that didn't make her any less dangerous either.

Lancer wasn't as stupid as the bossy brat with the red sweater and his Master's talented mentor seemed to believe he was. People tended to forget that while he could be classed as a Berserker and he was best known for his overwhelming speed and power instead of his brains, he still mastered the art of Runes within the span of a month and successfully seduced a New Age goddess. When he wanted to be, Lancer was a very bright individual.

There were too many things off with the current situation for Berserker not to show up in ten minutes, at most. The threat of the Grail disappearing and the planet being shattered by an explosion of superheated gas was too great a threat to ignore, so why hadn't he shown up?

... Or maybe he had.

Berserkers were just random classes with the ability to trade their sanity for power, after all. The Native American looked a lot like one of the shamans he'd met from the druidic clans of Ireland, and those guys were crazy powerful when it came to the ritual arts. Was the Berserker a Caster, or some other class that just looked like one?

"Now what's all this racket? A girl needs her beauty sleep, y'know, and you're interrupting mine."

Lancer smiled thinly, tapping Gae Bolg's butt against the ground. A sharp line of prana followed, tracing its way all the way to the dainty voice.

"Berserker, Brat," he greeted smoothly. As one, he and Tabitha acted: Lancer leveled Gae Bolg at Berserker's heart, while Tabitha materialized a glinting knife that shone with an inner rainbow. In retaliation, Berserker's teeth bared in a feral snarl. They were an off-white color that seemed stained with blood instead of plaque.

"Oh, spare me the semantics," the brat grumbled. "Berserker, show that Servant what we've got while I warm my baby up."

She slid a package from behind her back. He took a split second to recognize the shape of a briefcase, but that was as far as he got before Berserker let out a hair-raising howl.

Lancer's eyes snapped to the steaming and boiling form of Berserker. The faint stench of burning flesh filled the air along with a piercing, grinding sounded. He could see bones shifting underneath Berserker's skin, fur sprouting all over his body, clothes gradually tearing away as his chest barrelled out, his arms stretched, his legs snapped backwards.

In moments, Lancer was facing the snarling form of a creature not unlike a wolf, only about seven feet tall, nearly furless except for a tiny, tangled layer that protected its skin, and a loping, two-legged gait.

"Werewolf?" Lancer asked, whistling. Those things hadn't been seen in ages, not since he was three. Scathach should have hunted the last of them down on behalf of the Tuatha de Danaan more than six centuries before even that, but apparently more than one escaped.

"Skinwalker," the beast managed to spit out. "Change.. shhaaapes."

"Got it." Lancer smirked. "I'll keep him busy, Tabitha. Go after the Master and tear her weapon to pieces!"

* * *

Ren felt around with his Aura, extending the barrier as far as he could and taking note of all the life inside it. It was a rare skill, one that was only learned through intense martial training and discipline far beyond what the average civilian, and even the average Huntsman, would learn in six decades. What people didn't seem to realize was that plants had Aura too- and so did livestock, natural predators, and even the planet itself.

That wasn't what worried Ren at the moment.

The moment team SRBR had broken through the forest cover, they'd come across Assassin and her Master fending off a ridiculously large horde of Grimm. Ruby immediately jumped into the fray, a glint in her eye, and Blake was soon to follow.

Ren sighed and dredged up his Aura before chasing after them, blasting holes in the wall of darkness like it was paper being decimated by a bullet. The Aura in him moved sluggishly, like a syrup, while he felt the rushing tides of planetary Aura beneath him and the smooth, air-like flow of Ruby's and Blake's Auras within their lithe frames. He had always been special, but it was only after he'd developed his skills that he had found out why. People didn't seem to think that he had as much Aura as most others, but they couldn't have been further from the truth. His soul was smaller, yes, but the soul merely acted like a container to the Aura; what the soul produced and then stored, like a byproduct of its continued existence. To compensate for his tiny container and his advanced production rate, his Aura had become thicker, denser, more potent.

And that potency might as well have been fire to the creatures known as Grimm.

His first palm strike blasted a clear shockwave of Grimm away from his team. He stepped over the half-decomposed bodies and fluidly dipped into a spinning kick, followed by a series of katas that released more than a hundred punches in the span of twenty seconds. Each one found some sort of target, whether it had been Grimm, a boulder that shot up from the earth to create a wall, or a spear of powerful claws from a Beowolf. He spun around and shot off a current of Aura towards the tiniest Nevermore he'd ever seen, disintegrating it completely in the wake of glowing pink destruction.

He passed Blake carving an arc of death with her cleaver, meeting her eyes for a scant second and then jabbing a hand over her shoulder. The blanket of Aura around his finger sliced an inch or so off of her hair, but it also sliced a foot-long gouge straight into the bony growth on an Ursa's face. They separated, leaving the body to rot as they continued their missions.

Ren sent out another pulse of Aura. There was something strange about this recent horde, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. Ruby's and Blake's Aura signatures were clearly visible in his extrasensory range, as were Assassin's Master and the plant life that was slowly being snuffed out as collateral from the fighting. Assassin herself felt stranger, like the Aura inside wasn't really hers. There was another pulsing power inside her, faster and lighter than Aura, and far more potent. It shot out of her at random intervals, always seeming to coincide with the swift decapitation of a Grimm but being a second or two off in reality. Shirou's was similar, although his was more of a blindingly bright light in the form of his swords and arrows than anything else.

Throughout the ten minute battle, Ren still felt like something wasn't adding up. For every Grimm he blasted apart, there were two to take its place, but that was how Grimm battles normally went; the things seemed to have some small modicum of intelligence behind them, because only the weaker ones would attack en masse while the older, far more powerful ones would swoop in while the enemy was whittled down and exhausted from facing hundreds of small fry. To be truthful, it wasn't really all that tiring, either. It was the limit of the human body, enhanced by Aura, but still limited. The Grimm didn't have that problem. They flickered with darkness, like a black candle draping darkness across its room instead of light.

Ren paused, thinking over his words. 'Candles-'

Then the reality of the situation struck him like a shot from Nora's Magnhild, and he visibly flinched before continuing his decapitating motion. As he did so, he felt out the Aura of the creatures around him.

Deeply implanted into every Grimm, so deeply that he could barely feel it, there was a tiny shard of Aura. It pulsed in time with the motions of the Grimm pack, beating as one for a brief moment before becoming an erratic staccato and aligning once more.

Grimm. With Aura.

What a horrifying thought.

* * *

A spark was the first thing I saw when Archer and I entered Caster's domain. The barrier that separated he Territory from the outside world was transparent to both sight and senses, and it was only the abundance of prana that it couldn't fully suppress that indicated Caster was still there.

The bubble of space washed over us like water, and instantly the world changed. Colors grew brighter, shadows tinted with red, and a multitude of multicolored crystals that definitely hadn't been there before shimmered into existence, swaying gently as a heat wave would. Archer switched into battle mode, summoning Kanshou and Bakuya.

The steady walk towards the abandoned shopping mall that Caster had claimed as his own was fraught with tenseness, and several times I nearly summoned my own swords only to run through mere illusions. A snapping sound accompanied every step, along with the smell of something acrid burning and the taste of gasoline riddling the air and the inside of my mouth.

The doors opened by themselves as we approached, revealing Caster sitting cross-legged in the middle of a hallway. He sipped wine from a jar and looked up at us.

"You could have taken longer," he told us, setting aside his wine. "I'm only half done with this concentrated wine you moderners drink. So bitter, too."

"Let's get down to it,"Archer snapped irritably. "I just wanna get this over with and kill Saber."

Caster sighed again. This time he slipped a pair of rings onto his fingers and stood, giving us a stink eye. "And I was going to spend the rest of the day in peace, too. Fine, if you're so insistent, then I'll kill you quickly and be done with this matter entirely. I'm sure you two would be fine experiments indeed."

The only warning I had before a wall of fire slammed into me was the subtle draft of wind that blew from behind my back, gathering all the oxygen it could towards Caster's outstretched finger. Archer and I threw ourselves to the side, both of us clad in our own armor and a copy of the Shroud of Saint Martin. Archer was quick to throw his blades, while I took to a more discrete position and nocked an arrow onto his bow. I may have been a fantastic short-range fighter, but Archer had centuries more experience in it than I did, and at least my talent in Archery made me equal to him with anything less than a Noble Phantasm.

The first exchange between my alter and Caster lasted only two seconds,but it opened a dozen wounds in both of them. Archer moved like a panther, striking with fluid grace and dancing around the vast majority of strikes. Caster, on the other hand, had no martial prowess whatsoever. He compensated by creating an innumerable number of barriers with just the flick of a wrist, almost completely blocking mine and Archer's first salvo. It was Archer that finally blasted through and scored a light slash on Caster's ribs, tearing the emerald dobes he was wearing. In a flash, the few drops of blood that spurted forth became a torrent of water, throwing aside Archer. It would have given Caster enough time to recover had I not launched my next flurry of arrows at him. He once again created the barrier, but this one had a countable number of layers- twelve, each one strong enough to withstand any normal attack. A pole on the ground grabbed my attention, and I smirked.

Will of a Penniless Swordsman gave me the power to turn any straight object into an E ranked Noble Phantasm. The thin shavings of rubble and various poles around served those purposes perfectly.

When I picked up the pole, it glowed briefly before returning to the rusty length it was before. I could feel it, though- somehow my ability had changed its definition from "pole" to "sword". Rather, its name was no longer "pole", but "sword".

I fired one after another, scavenging the few I could from the ground before Tracing them into existence. Each one cracked a barrier, and by the twelfth, the poles began sailing through three at a time. Obviously the outer shell was the strongest, and judging by the way the last six shattered from a single shot, the last layer wouldn't have been able to stop a normal snowball.

One of the poles caught Caster in the arm, another in the head, but while both bruised him, neither actually managed to pierce. I sighed; it was to be expected, after all. Caster wasn't just some old man, he was a Servant. Servant tended to be able to take mach-1 metal rods without much more than a scratch.

Thankfully, Caster was caught off guard for long enough that Archer managed to get a flashing strike in towards Caster's hand. It missed, but not by much, only slicing off one of Caster's fingers instead of the entire wrist. The man simply created another flood of water with the stream of red that came out. The water was ankle deep when it froze completely, trapping everything it touched in its grasp: Archer's swords, my feet, even small pockets of light that suddenly appeared as black voids, the photons unable to reach my eyes in time for me to perceive them.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?!" Archer snapped, dragging me out of the ice by the scruff of my neck. It twinged, but the far more noticeable sensation was the sudden warmth that returned to my feet. I hadn't even felt them go numb...

The moment I landed back on the ice, this time with thick golden sabatons from one of Iskander's lieutenants, I fired off another quarrel and summoned Caladbolg. It wasn't much good for causing anything but widespread destruction, yes, but that was exactly what we needed to clear the shopping center out and give Archer some room to launch the heavy hitters.

"Light's Forbear!" I called, feeling the prana tugging from my body like someone was siphoning my own blood out through my pores. The mass of energy surged into the empty blueprint that had formed in my mind, following the steps of Tracing until a perfect replica laid in the air before me. The sword-arrow took considerably less time to Trace than the first time I'd done it, although whether that was the Curse beginning to unravel or just my newfound experience I couldn't tell. I had it nocked, primed and collecting vast amounts of mana from Caster's Territory in the span of four seconds.

Unfortunately, it looked like that was all I had time for.

The trademarks Breaking cracks appeared around the corkscrewed tip just as Caster reappeared, sporting two new cuts and a splotchy yellow bruise on his wrist. He pointed at me, chanted a few words in what sounded like Greek, and flicked his finger downwards.

It started slowly at first, like a gradual increase of weight on my body. The process sped up soon, though, and by the time the Caladbolg I was holding had completely Broken, my body was moving at about a third the speed it should have been.

It only took a small twitch to decide that first stage of the battle. That twitch was me separating my fingers and allowing the bowstring of EMIYA's bow to propel Caladbolg forwards.

Then I saw white, pulled back, and waited for Caster to show himself.

* * *

Ren snapped to attention once more, lashing out with the blades attached to his guns. They caught a Grimm each and bored through skull and flesh alike. The glint in the corner of his eye told him that Ruby's scythe was swinging straight over his head, and he turned in time to see a small Nevermore become a mass of flesh and blood, sailing through the air with the grace of a manatee.

He glanced over to Assassin and her Master. They appeared to have the least trouble with fending off their attackers, although that might have been solely due to Assassin's ridiculously outlandish abilities. She kicked Grimm away with the ease of tossing a pillow out of the way, and her range of flexibility made him wonder whether or not she actually had any bones in her body. She released herself from a backflip that had the back of her head touching her feet, then bent smoothly forward and sliced through an Ursa's jugular vein.

Ren was torn away from her mesmerizing style of fighting when an Ursa of his own charged at him, nearly blindsiding him. He swore and spun, sheathing his StormFlower as he did so.

'Now or never, I guess.'

Ren smirked at the Ursa that was now watching him inquisitively. Its hide was scarred in the way that only Grimm could inflict on each other, probably making it a half-century old at least. The entirely red mask was a worrying matter, but not overly so- while it was rare for Grimm to have masks that denoted such battle experience and age, it wasn't unheard of, and if he timed his actions just right, he could kill it with a few well-placed blows.

Ren dredged the Aura rippling through his soul, forcing it to flow throughout his body with sheer willpower. Concentrating it wasn't too hard, and within five seconds he had an acceptable amount sloshing in his system. He fed a small line of his soul into each finger, just as the Grimm charged again, a glint of intelligence shining in its burning blue eyes.

Eight jets of pinkish energy, looking not unlike the flame of a blowtorch, hovered above his fingers, expelled by near-invisible pores that he'd carved into his body for two years just for this technique. The Ursa roared as it approached. Ren closed his eyes and smiled; he would not be intimidated by such pathetic attempts at a challenge.

He thrust forward in a motion that could only be described like a river would be. In the same instant, he ducked underneath the Ursa's thundering swipe, shot forwards, expelled one hand into its gut, and pushed the other straight through its lower jaw and into its brain. The pink fires of his Aura carved through its shadowy flesh like it was air, and before anyone had a chance to even begin comprehending what had just occurred, the Ursa exploded in a mess of darkness and gore. Blake and Ruby gaped, and even Assassin glanced at him with a slightly impressed eye before turning back to her battalion of opponents.

Ren wasn't where he was a moment ago, though. He hadn't stopped in his motions, and in seconds he was upon a second red-masked Ursa, bursting its head from the inside out. At the same time, a third Grimm, this time a Larva-stage Colossus, thought it would be a good idea to try and squish him under its gigantic, vaguely humanoid feet. The monstrous being didn't even manage to raise its foot when it felt something searingly hot enter its stomach and rip out of its back. It looked around dumbly, catching sight of a single flash of green before the same heat enveloped its eyeballs. It died how it lived: shortly and in pain, and that was just the way Ren Lie liked it.

Ren smirked and, after dispatching his fifteenth enemy in as many seconds, released the last dregs of Aura that were actively pulsing in his hands. His stiff-as-boards fingers released heat and Aura for a second more before being hidden from view; Ren had killed his final Grimm with the simplest jab to the skull. It ripped the Beowolf in front of him apart, starting at the neck and ending at the tail. He smirked, although the intention was dulled slightly by the blood and gore that was rapidly evaporating off of his clothes and face.

As Ren finished releasing what Aura was left in his active body, he looked back at the battlefield. The rest of the Grimm had gone, with Blake, Ruby and the newcoming Master gaping at him in full-blown awe. Assassin was walking towards him, and although he felt especially powerful at the moment, he couldn't help but hesitate for the slightest instant at the emotionless, flat planes that were the Servant's eyes. He was being watched, and very closely at that.

Assassin walked up to him and jabbed her knives into the ground, missing his feet by millimeters. To his credit, Ren didn't even blink that time, wholly focused on keeping Assassin's gaze.

"..." She was silent for an entire minute, merely searching his eyes with her own dull ones. Then, her lips formed the beginnings of a single word, an extremely tiny and otherwise unnoticeable smile hidden in their depths. "...Allies."

At that moment, Ren found that he wouldn't have cared whether or not Archer had died, because at least now he would have gotten a much more tolerable replacement.

* * *

Explode!"

Lancer's cry erupted through the cacophony of snarls and howls that Berserker was emitting as the two tried to overpower the other. A rune carved into Lancer's leather armor flashed with violet light before shutting off just as suddenly.

With a roar and a smirk, Lancer threw Berserker off of him and clear into the air. The Explode was useful, but only when it could be prepared beforehand. It was unmatchable, even by the Prana Burst inherent to Saber classes, but its only downside was that the rune had to be carved by hand, and only Scathach had the precision and smarts required to use them effectively in the middle of a fight. Lancer was good, but he wasn't that good; rather, he couldn't be that good. There were certain limitations that no mortal could exceed, not even a demigod. Herakles pushed the limits as far as he could with his Strength, this Berserker was looking more and more like an Endurance god in the form of a werewolf, but he would always be the Invisible Hound of Ulster.

You just couldn't match Lancer's speed, in the end, and that was that.

His runes, however, held a lot of room for improvement. The Explode only lasted for three seconds maximum, and unlike the constant Strength and Endurance that Berserker seemed to be emitting, his abilities would shrink back down to normal after that period had passed.

He did have his own advantages, however. The werewolf thing clearly had its mind ravaged and torn by the Mad Enhancement, even if it still seemed like it had a shred of intelligence left. It attacked wildly, only coordinating its strikes to the point that it could recognize weak points.

Behind them, Coco Adel and Tabitha were engaged in a fierce struggle. Tabitha was proving to be every bit the prana battery that he expected her to be, having been Reinforcing herself close to her physical limit for almost ten minutes and Tracing three new daggers after the other ones dissipated. Despite that, her opponent was a Huntress-in-training, and she showed it. Without her weapon, Coco couldn't do much real damage against Tabitha, but she easily evaded every strike save for one surprise attack that came from Tabitha throwing one of her daggers. The line of clotting blood on her face wouldn't even scar, but it had marked a huge improvement in Tabitha's struggles against the girl. His Master may not have been a trained fighter, but she made up for it with sheer tenacity and willpower.

Then the Berserker charged him again, and he moved, pushing off from the ground and flipping in the air to aim Gae Bolg's point at its heart. The beast moved almost as quickly, shooting after him and crashing into him in midair. Sadly, the edge of Gae Bolg, gently dragging on Berserker's hide, didn't even scratch. It would most undoubtedly pierce if he stabbed hard enough or usd its signature heart-tracer ability, but the chances of getting a shot like that in were too low for his liking.

The crack of bone on wood sounded anyway as Lancer twirled Gae Bolg, rearing the haft towards Berserker's lupine muzzle. He snarled and crashed into its chest, throwing the both of them back more than a dozen feet. Berserker was strong, but it wasn't anything he couldn't keep up with.

"Gotcha, you little snot!"

Lancer was whirling before he even comprehended the voice behind them. Coco was holding Tabitha in a chokehold, slowly draining the oxygen out of her lungs. Lancer made to intercept the girl, but Coco merely held up the dagger that Tabitha had Traced earlier and held it to her heart.

"Keep whittling him down," Coco instructed, keeping her eyes on Berserker instead of the struggling child she was currently strangling. "He'll run out of Aura eventually, and then the girl won't be able to supply him any more when she's unconscious."

Lancer froze for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough for Berserker to get the drop on him. The werewolf ripped the praying beads from his neck and tossed them in the air, howling to the sun as he did so. The beads rippled with light until, one by one, they morphed into tiny nails, each one made of wood and no longer than two inches. Despite that, Lancer wouldn't help but feel that they were almost as dangerous as his Gae Bolg.

He met his Master's eyes for a single second, and he saw the mark on her wrist begin to shine with bloody light. The command slipped through his defenses like water around a boulder: Win.

A surge of prana crackled to life around him, and he could detect the faintest traces of Rider's prana on it. The energy from the Command Seal must have come from the Servant that already resided in the Grail. His stats jumped before his eyes, going from solid Bs all around to hovering just above the A range.

His Agility doubled, rising to A+++.

He smirked, and with a bang, he was off and slamming Berserker's face into a nearby building. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Ozpin casually dodged out of the way of an overhead strike that most certainly would have bisected him had he not sped up the time around his body by a factor of two. His ability was taxing, and it was only living to the age of one hundred and twenty through complex use of keeping his Semblance active at all times and enduring extremely intense Aura Enlargers that allowed him to pull his style of combat off with any efficiency. Of course, being one of three sons of the Queen helped immensely as well.

Cinder scowled and pulled her hands up, lodging a chunk of Dust into the space he'd been a moment prior. Her attacks weren't doing much more than make the old man dance, and that was saying something since the average Huntsman would be slaughtered by the first of her signature techniques, never mind the fourteenth and final one. That, she was saving for special occasions.

It was entirely coincidental that this situation was turning out to be pretty special in its own right.

"Saber," she commanded. There was no need for her Servant to hear anything else; the two of them were at such a deep wavelength that one could usually tell what the other's foremost thoughts were, as well as the intentions behind them. Herakles had proven to be unexpectedly chivalrous and modest in the beginning, but she soon rid him of that needless habit. It only got in the way of fighting, after all.

Saber, to his credit, knew exactly where she wanted him to go. He slammed into Ozpin again, making the man stumble back a bit this time, and while his guard was down he pulled the bronze form of his Nine Lives out of the stone and unleashed a second strike that had her enemy flying into a nearby building.

"Dance for me," she hissed. Embers began springing up, one after another, inside the depths of the building- until a radiant plume of magma sprouted and cooked everything within it to a crisp.

She smirked and pulled the lava to her side, utilizing what little she had left of the power given to her by the Queen- it had been far too long since she'd had any real control of her flames, but the Grail was proving to be a very interesting artifact when it came to operating outside the bounds of time and space. It also meant that her grandmother's laws were completely moot in the area known as Patch.

She piled another pool onto Ozpin's presumably charred form, just in case, before having Saber end it with a single swing. His bronze sword flashed in the raging fires that sprung up from the sheer heat suffusing the street they had been fighting on.

"My, you're certainly angry today, aren't you?" he voice from behind her. She gritted her slightly pointed teeth; of course it wouldn't have been so easy.

"Of course, the collateral damage won't be all that hard to fix," she slipped out smoothly. Her eyes narrowed in triumph. "It was you who taught me how to control this, after all. Isn't that right, Uncle Oz?"


End file.
